




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


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UNITE!) STATES OF AMERICA 





























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COLISEUM OF ROME. 








































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































5 ) 

DESCRIPTION OF>* 


^TME> 


MUSEUM 


OF 


'o-S- 






EMPLOYMENTS, AMUSEMENTS, CUSTOMS AND HABIT 
THE CITIES, PALACES, MONUMENTS AND TOMBS, 

THE LITERATURE AND FINE ARTS 
OF 3,000 YEARS AGO. 



i, 


s 


BY 


Ul W. YAGGY, M. S., 

JV AND 


T. L. HAINES, A. M., 
i 

AUTHORS OF TITE “ROYAL PATH OF LIFE," 
“OUR HOME COUNSELOR " 

“LITTLE GEMS" 



WESTERN PUBLISHING HOUSE. 


1880. 
























































£ 35 - 




o 


THE LIBRAJty 

or congress 
Washington 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880. bv 
L. W Yaggy a T. L. Haines. 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. D C 


Electrotyped by Blomgren Bros. & Co., 
10-2 & 164 S. Clark St., Chicago. 









o 


<o 

t 

A 

jfi 




Egypt, Greece and Italy were the fountain heads of our civilization and 
the source of our knowledge ; to them we can trace, link by link, the origin 
of all that is ornamental, graceful and beautiful. It is therefore a matter 
of greatest interest to get an intimate knowledge of the original state, and 
former perfection, the grandeur, magnificence and high civilization of these 
countries, as well as of the homes, the private and domestic life, the schools, 
churches, rites, ceremonies, &c. 

The many recent excavations in Troy, Nineveh, Babylon and the un¬ 
covering of the City of Pompeii, with its innumerable treasures, the unfold¬ 
ing of the long-hoarded secrets, have revealed information for volumes of 
matter. But works that treat on the various subjects of antiquity are, for the 
most part, not only costly and hard to procure, but also far too voluminous. 
The object of this work is to condense into the smallest possible compass 
the essence of information which usually runs through many volumes, and 
place it into a practical form for the common reader. We hope, however, 
that this work will give the reader a greater longing to extend his inquiries 
into these most interesting subjects, so rich in everything that can refine 
the taste, enlarge the understanding and improve the heart. It has been 
our object, so far as possible, to avoid every expression of opinion, whether 
our own or that of any school of thinkers, and to supply first, facts, and 
secondly, careful references by which the citations of those facts, may be 
verified, and the inferences from them traced by the reader himself, to their 
legitimate result. 

Before we close, we would tender our greatest obligations to the-Eng¬ 
lish and German authors, from whom we have drawn abundantly in prepar¬ 
ing this work ; also to the Directors of the British Museum of London, and 
the Society of Antiquarians of Berlin, and especially to the authorities of 
the excavated City of Pompeii and its treasures in the Museum of Naples, 
where we were furnished with an intelligent guide and permitted to spend 
days in our researches. To each and all of these, who have so kindly pro¬ 
moted our labor, our heartfelt thanks are cordially returned. 

Many of the engravings are from drawings made on the spot, but a 
greater number are from photographs, and executed with the greatest fidel¬ 
ity by German and French artists. 


3 


































TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


Pompeii. 

The Glory of the City—Destruction—Excavation— Entering Pompeii ( Page 21-25) —The 
Streets of the City—The Theatres of Pompeii—Villa of Julia Felix—Pavements and 
Sidewalks —Arrangement of Private Houses {Page 26-53) —Elegance of Domestic 
Architecture—Ground Plan of Roman House—Exterior Apartments—Interior 
Apartments—Dining Halls—/The Triclinium—Materials and Construction—The 
Salve Lucru—Paintings and Decorations—The Drunken Hercules—Wall Decoration 
—The Peristyle—The House of Siricus—Political Inscriptions—Electioneering 
Advertisements—The Graffiti—Street of the Lupanar—Eighty Loaves of Bread Found 
—The House of the Balcony—Human Bodies Preserved—Discovered Bodies —House 
of Diomedes ( Page 54-74)— Location of the Villa—Ground Plan of the Villa—Detail 
of Ground Plan—The Caldarium—Galleries and Halls—Porticoes and Terraces— 
Tomb and Family Sepulchre—The Villa Destroyed—Conclusive Evidence—Jewels 
and Ornaments—Pliny’s Account of a Roman Garden— Stores and Eating Houses 
{Page 75-81)— Restaurant—Pompeian Bill of Fare—Circe, Daughter of the Sun— 
Houses of Pansa and Sallust {Page 82-102)— Curious Religious Painting—General 
View of House—Worship of the Lares—Domesticated Serpents—Discoveries Con¬ 
firm Ancient Authors—Ornamentation and Draperies—Remarkable Mansions— 
House of the Vestals—Surgical and other Instruments—Shop of an Apothecary— 
House of IIolconius {Page 103-112)— Decorations of the Bed-Chambers—Perseus and 
Andromeda—Epigraphs and Inscriptions—Ariadne Discovered by Bacchus— 
General Survey of the City {Page 113-118)— Wine Merchant’s Sign—Sculptor’s 
Laboratory—House of Emperor Joseph II.17-119 


The Amphitheatre—Coliseum—84,000 Seats—The Bloody Entertainments—Examining 
the Wounded—'Theatres— Roman Baths {Page 147-156)— Description of the Baths— 
Cold Baths—Warm Chambers—The Vapor Baths—Hot-Air Baths— Social Games 
and Sports {Page 157-162)— Domestic Games—Jugglers—Game of Cities—Gym¬ 
nastic Arts— Social Entertainments {Page 163-180)— Characteristics of the Dance 

5 












VI 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


, — Grace and Dress of the Dancers—Position at the Table—Vases and Ornaments— 

Food and Vegetables—Mode of Eating—Reminders of Mortality— Egyptian Music 
and Entertainments (Page 181-188)— Musical Instruments—Jewish Music—Beer, 
Palm Wine, Etc -Games and Sports of the Egyptians (Page 189-202)— Games with 
Dice—Games of Ball—Wrestling—Intellectual Capabilities—Hunting.. .120-20? 

P0ME£T!C JalFE. 

Occupation of Women—Bathing—Wedding Ceremonies—Children’s Toys—Writing 
Materials—Families, Schools and Marriages—Duties of Children—Dress, Toilet 
and Jewelry (Page 219-232)— The Chiton—Dress Materials—Styles of Wearing Hair 
—Head-Dress of Women—Hair-Pins—Sunshades— Grimes and Punishments; Con¬ 
tracts , Deeds , Etc . (Page 233-252)— Punishments—Laws Respecting Debt—Contracts 
—Superstition—Cure of Diseases— Houses , Villas , Farmyards , Orchards , Gardens , 
Etc. (Page 253-210)— Character of the People—Construction of Houses—Plans ol 
Villas—Irrigation—Gardens— Egyptian Wealth (Page 211-280) —Gold and Silver- 
Worth of Gold—Treasures—Total Value of Gold.203-280 

pOME^TIC pTENJ5ILj3. 

Writing Materials—Literature—Curious Lamps—The Candelabrum—Candelabra—Oil- 
Lamps—The Steelyard—Drinking Vessels—Colored Glass—Glass—Glass Vessels— 
Articles of Jewelry—Toilet-Boxes, Etc.— Furniture (Page 309-322) —Chairs and 
Stools—Bed-Room Furniture—Tables, Etc.—Pottery—Drawings on Vases— Vases 
(Page 323-342) —Greek Vases—Inscriptions on Vases—Historical Subjects on Vases 
—Uses of Vases—Vases Found in Tombs—Silver Vessels—Decorated Vases..281-342 


Colored Glass Vessels—Imitation Jewels—Potters—Carpenter’s Tools—Professions— 
Husbandry—Rise of the Nile—Agricultural Implements—Agriculture— Baking , 
Dyeing and Painting (Page 363-384)— Flour Mills—Bread-Baking—Dyeing—Scour¬ 
ing and Dyeing—Coloring Substances—Mineral Used for Dyeing—Cost of Dyeing 
—Cloth Manufacture—Persian Costumes...343-384 

p F(0Y. 

Ruins at Hissarlik—Settlement of Troy—First Settlers—Scaean Gate—Call of Menelaus— 
Houses at Troy—Objects Found in Houses—Silver Vases—Taking out the Treasure 
—Shield of the Treasure—Contents of the Treasure—Ear-Rings and Chains—Gold 
Buttons, Studs, Etc—Silver Goblet and Vases—Weapons of Troy—Terra Cotta 
Mugs—Condition of the Roads—Lack of Inscriptions.385-422 






TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


Vll 


Nineveh a^d Babylojl 


Explorations of Niebuhr and Rich—Excavations at Kouyunjik Palace—Sennacherib’s 
Conquests—Highly-Finished Sculptures—North Palace, Kouyunjik—Temple of 
•Solomon—The Oracle—Description of the Palace—Modern Houses of Persia— 
Chambers in the Palace—The Walls—Grandeur of Babylon—Building Materials— 
History of Babylon— Karnac and Baalbec ( Page 461-473) —Stupendous Remains— 
Temple of Luxor—Chambers of the Great Pyramid—The Great Temple—The 
Pantheon at Rome—Egyptian Obelisks—Obelisks...423-484 


■fyELIQION Oq ^VlYTHOLOqY. 

Mythology—Mythological Characters—The Pythian Apollo—Phoebus Apollo—Niobe 
and Leto—Daphne—Kyrene—Hermes—The Sorrow of Demeter—The Sleep of 
Endymion—Phaethon—Briareos—Dionysos— Pentheus—Asklepios—Ixion—Tanta- 
los—The Toils of Herakles—Admetos—Epimetheus and Pandora—Io and Prome¬ 
theus— Deukalion —Poseidon and Athene—Medusa—Danae—Perseus—Andromeda 
—Akrisios—Kephalos and Prokris—Sky 11a—Phrixos and Helle—Medeia—Theseus 
—Ariadne—Arethusa—Tyro—Narkissos—Orpheus and Eurydike—Kadmos and 
Europa—Bellerophon—Altliaia and the Burning Brand...485-642 

JdNE ^RTp. 

Egyptian Sculpture — Etruscan Painting — Renowned Painters—Parrhasius—Colors 
Used—Sculpture Painting—Fresco Painting— Sculpturing (Page 667-694)— Sculp¬ 
ture in Greece and Egypt—Sculptures of Ancient Kings—Animal Sculpture— 
Modeling of the Human Figure—“ The Sculptor of the Gods”—Grandeur of Style 
—Statues—Description of Statues—Work of Lysippus—The Macedonian Age— 

Roman Art—Copies of Ancient Gods- Mosaic (Page 695-702)— Mosaic Subjects— 

Battle Represented in Mosaics—Grandeur of Style.643-702 


LITERATURE. 


Homer—Paris—Achilles—The Vengeance of Odysseus—Sophocles—Herodotus—The 
Crocodile—Artabanus Dissuades Xerxes—Socrates—Socrates and Aristodemus— 
Aristophanes—Plato—The Perfect Beauty — Last Hours of Socrates — Demos¬ 
thenes—Philip and the Athenians—Measures to Resist Philip—Former Athenians 
Described—Oration on the Crown—Invective against Catiline—Expulsion of Cati¬ 
line from Rome—The Tyrant Praetor Denounced—Immortality of the Soul—Julius 
Caesar—The Germans—Battle of Pharsalia—Virgil—Employment of the Bee- 
Punishments in He'll—Horace—To Licinius—Happiness Founded on Wisdom— 
The Equality of Man—Plutarch—Proscription of Sylla—Demosthenes and Cicero 
Compared.703-832 










VI11 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


•J 1 OMB$ AND ^ATACOjVlB^. 

Extent of the Tombs—An Acre and a quarter in a Tomb—Sculpturings—Painting- 
Burying According to Rank—Mummies—Mummy Cases and Sarcophagi—Roman 
Tombs—Inscriptions— The Catacombs (Page 873-910) —Inscriptions—Catacombs— 
Christian Inscriptions—Early Inscriptions—Catacombs, nearly 900 miles long— 
Utensils from the Catacombs—Paintings—S. Calixtus—Lord’s Supper.833-910 

'J 1 RUTH OF THE jSlBLE. 

The Assyrian and Babylonian Discoveries—1100 Christian Inscriptions—The use of 
the Bible for Excavators—Accordance with Ancient Writings—Frieze from the 
Arch of Titus—No Book produced by Chance—God the Author—Its Great Antiq¬ 
uity—The Pentateuch—Preservation of the Scripture—Its Important Discoveries 
—Its Peculiar Style—Its Harmony—Its Impartiality—Its Prophecies—Its Impor¬ 
tant Doctrines—Its Holy Tendency—Its Aims—Its Effects—Its General Reception 
—Persecuted but not Persecuting..911-944 





























Coliseum of Rome.. . ... 

Destruction of Pompeii. 

View of Pompeii. (From a Photograph ) . 

Plan of a Roman House. 

Vestibule of a Pompeian House. 

Triclinium or Dining-room. 

Hercules Drunk. (From Pompeii ) . 

Discovered Body at Pompeii. 

Ground Plan of the Suburban Villa of Diomedes 

Wall Painting at Pompeii. 

Household Utensils. 

Restaurant. (From Wall Painting ) . 

Bed and Table at Pompeii. (From Wall Painting ) . . . 

Plan of a Triclinium.. 

Head of Circe. 

Kitchen Furniture at Pompeii. 

Brooches of Gold found at Pompeii. 

Scales found at Pompeii.. 

Wall Painting found at Pompeii. 

Gold Breastpins found at Pompeii. 

A Laboratory, as found in Pompeii... 

First Walls Discovered in Pompeii. 


Page. 

1 — 

17 

23 

28 . 

30 

33 

37 

51 

57 

69 / 
72 

77 

78 

79 
81 
84 
98 

100 

105 

114 

117 

11®/ 

































X 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Page. 

View of the Amphitheatre at Pompeii. .. 121 

Examining the Wounded. 133 

Asking Pardon. 135 

Not Granted. 135 

Combats with Beasts. 137 

View of the Tepid arium..... 151 

Ancient Bath Boom. {As Discovered ). ... .. 155 J 

Egyptian Yases........ 173 

Social Enjoyment of Women. {From an Ancient Painting) .. 205 

Gold Pins. 220 

Shawl or Toga Pin. 220 

Pearl Set Pins...... 221 

Stone Set Brooches. 224 

EIair Dress. {From Pompeii) . 227 

Toilet Articles found at Pompeii... 231 

Wreath of Oak. {Life Saving) ... 247 J 

Tabulae, Calamus, and Papyrus. ...... 283 

Tabul.e, Stylus, and Papyrus. 283 

Tabulae and Ink Stand...... 284 

Gold Lamp. {Found at Pompeii) ..... 287 

Candelabrum, or Lamp Stand.... 289 

Candelabra, or Lamp Stands.... 290 

Standing Lamp.... _ 293 

Ancient Lamps. 293 

Scales and Weights. 295 

Y ESSELS. {From Pompeii) . .. 290 

Drinking Yessel. 297 

Glass Yessels {From Pompeii) . gQ2 

Cups and Metals.. . 

Gold Jewelry. {From Pompeii) . gQ- 

Heavy Gold Pins . ggg 

Brooches Inset with Stone. 307 




































LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Safety Toga Pins. 

Plundering Corinth. 

Greek Yase. 

• .*. 

Etruscan Yase. 

Roman Yases. 

Yase Representing a Marriage. (Found at Pompeii ) . 

\ ase Representing Trojan War. (Found at Pompeii ) . 

Y ASE. (Found at Pompeii ) . 

Yase Representing Greek Sacrifice.. 

Yase 2,000 Years Old.. 

Silver Platter...... 

Silver Cup. (Found at Hildesheim ) .*... .. 

Yase of the First Century.. 

Dish of the First Century..... 

Ancient Glass Yessels.. 

Glass Brooch..... 

Imitation of Real Stone.... 

Ancient Egyptian Pottery.... 

Mill and Bakery at Pompeii.. 

Bread Discovered in Pompeii... 

Metals and Beads... 

Terra-cotta Lamps.... 

Bronze Lamps. .. 

Golden Cups of Priam. (Found at Troy ) .. 

Wonderful Yases of Terra-cotta from Palace of Priam. 

i 

From Palace of Priam... 

Lids and Metals of Priam... 

Treasures of Priam. (Found at Troy ) ... 

Part of Machine of Priam.... . ... 

JEWELRY OF GOLD AND STONES... 

Yessel Found in the Palace of Priam. .. 

Shield of the Palace of Priam..... 


Page. 

308 

317 

321 


, ... 324 
... 325 
... 328 
... 333 
... 334 
... 336 
... 337 
... 339 
... 340 
... 341 
... 341 
... 346 
... 347 
... 348 
... 350 
... 365 
... 371 
... 389 
... 394 
... 394 


396 

399 

400 

401 


404 

406 

406 

407 

408 





































xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page. 

Gold Necklace of Troy. 409 

Gold Tassels of Troy. 409 

Lamps found at Troy. 409 

• 

Studs and Bracelets of Priam. 411 

Gold Pins with Set Gems. 411 

Gold Ear-rings of Troy. 412 

Spears, Lances, Ax and Chain .. .. 415 

Shears, Knives and Spears. .. 415 

Lances Found at Palace of Priam, Troy. 416 

Coins or Metals....... 41S 

Elegant Brooch of Troy..... 421 

Lamp found at Troy....... 422 

Palace of Sennacherib ........ 427 v 

Discovered in the Palace ... 435 v 

Yiew of a Hall .....■. 445 v 

Columns of Karnac . *..... ..... 463 v 

The Great Pyramids and Sphinx,..... 469 

Ruins of Baalbec .. 473 u 

View of the Pantheon at Rome..... 475 

Pantheon at Rome. 477 

Half Section of the Pantheon. 478 

Obelisk of Heliopolis... . ... 481 

Jupiter {or Zeus) . 492 

Apollo. {From an Ancient Sculpture) ..... 495 

Pluto and His Wife... 593 

Ceres {or Demeter. From Pompeii Wall Painting) . 512' 

Juno {or Here) . 526 

Diana {or Artemis) ..... 520 

Vulcan {or Hephaistos ). 520 

Minerva {or Pallas Athene. Found at Pompeii) . 53Q 

Ancient Sculpturing on Tantalos. 537 

Urania. {Muse of Astronomy) . 53§ 




































LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Xlll 


Jupiter (or Zeus with his Thunderbolt ).. 

Thalia, the Muse. 

Laocoon, the False Priest.. 

Grecian Altar (3000 years old ) ... 

Euterpe. (Muse of Pleasure ) . 

Thalia. (Muse of Comedy ) .* . . . . 

Numa Pompilius Visiting the Nymph Egeria.. 

Polyhymnia. (Muse of Rhetoric ) . 

Sphinx of Egypt .... ... 

Calliope. (Muse of Heroic Verse ). .... 

The Origin of Man... 

Erate. (Muse of the Lute ) . 

Terpsichore. (Muse of Dancing ) . 

Ancient Sacrifice. (From Wall Painting of Pompeii ) 

Melpomene. (Muse of Tragedy ) . 

Clio. (Muse of History ) ... 

Ancient Art and Literature... 

Painting (2600 years old ) . 

Dying Gladiator... 

Mosaic Floor.. .... 

Mosaic Doves. 

Apollo Charming Nature. . 

Ancient Authors. 

Library of Herculaneum.... 

Trojan Heroes. 

Ancient Metal Engraving. 

Socrates Drinking the Poison. 

From Ancient Sculpturing. 

King Philip (of Macedon ) . 

Augustus C.esar. (Found at Pompeii ) . 

Julius C.ESAR. (From an Ancient Sculpturing ) . 

Virgil and Horace. 


Page. 

. . 5 44 
.. 550 

K K 

, . ODD 

.. 563 
,. 577 
. . 584 
.. 591 
.. 603 
.. 607 
. . 614 
.. 617 
.. 623 
.. 625 
-. 631 
.. 639 
.. 642 
. . 645 
.. 655 
. . 6-8$' 
.. 696 
.. 697 
.. 701 
.. 709 

.. m 

.. 735 
.. 745 
.. 762 


784 

795 

805 

813 


































XIV 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Euclid 


Page. 

824 


Alexander Severus. 831 

d 

Egyptian Tomb. 335 J 

Sarcophagus, or Coffin. {With Noah's Ark cut in relief on the outside) . . 841 

Coffin of Alabaster. {Features of the Deceased Sculptured) . 843 

Discovered Tomb with its Treasures. {At Pompeii) . 847 

Articles Found in a Tomb.. 852 

Hieroglyphics..857, 858, 859 

Egyptian Pillar. 862 

Egyptian Column. 867 

Sections of the Catacombs with Chambers... . 874 

Plan of the Catacombs at Home. 875 

Stone Coffin. 878 

Stone Coffin with Open Side. 879 

Inside View of the Catacombs... 881 

Lamps Found in the Catacombs. 884 

Tomb Inscription. 896 

Painted Ceiling. 906 

Chamber of a Catacomb.. . 909 J 

Frieze from the Arch of Titus.„. 916 

Pentateuch, Written 3200 Years Ago. 921 

Siiisiiak and IIis Captives on Sculptured Wall at Karnac. 935 

Portrait of Hehoboam. 936 



























jADDRE£2 TO the ^VIujvimy. 



“And thou hast walked about, (how strange a story!) 
In Thebes’ streets three thousand years ago, 

When the Memnonium was in all its glory, 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces and piles stupendous, 

Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 

“Perhaps that very hand now pinioned flat, 

Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass; 

Or dropped a half-penny in Homer’s hat; 

Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass; 

Or held, by Solomon’s own invitation, 

A torch at the great Temple’s dedication. 

“ Thou couldst develop—if that withered tongue 
Could tell us what those sightless orbs have seen— 
How the world looked when it was fresh and young 
And the great deluge still had left it green; 

Or was it then so old that history’s pages 
Contained no record of its early ages? 

“Since first thy form was in this box extended 
We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations; 
The Roman Empire has begun and ended, 

New worlds have risen—we have lost old nations; 

And countless kings have into dust been humbled, 
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

15 







16 


ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY. 


“ If the tomb’s secrets may not be confessed, 

The nature of thy private life unfold: 

A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast, 

And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled; 

Have children climbed those knees and kissed that face? 
What was thy name and station, age and race?” 


^J\|£WER. 


“Child of the later days! thy words have broken 
A spell that long has bound these lungs of clay, 

For since this smoke-dried tongue of mine’hath spoken, 
Three thousand tedious years have rolled away. 
Unswathed at length, I ‘stand at ease’ before ye. 

List, then, O list, while I unfold my story.” 

'~L» vJ-» vL* v*. vL» <1* 

*Jv 


























Pompeii was in its full glory at the commencement of the 
Christian era. It was a city of wealth and refinement, with 
about 35,000 inhabitants, and beautifully located at the foot of 
Mount Vesuvius; it possessed all local advantages that the most 

refined taste could de¬ 
sire. Upon the verge 
of the sea, at the en¬ 
trance of a fertile 
plain, on the bank of 
a navigable river, it 
united the convenien¬ 
ces of a commercial 
town with the securi¬ 
ty of a military sta¬ 
tion, and the romantic 
beauty of a spot cele¬ 
brated in all ages for 
its pre-eminent loveli¬ 
ness. Its environs, 
even to the heights of 
Vesuvius, were cover¬ 
ed with villas, and the 
coast, all the way to 
Naples, was so orna- 
destruction of pompeii. mented with gardens 


and villages, that the shores of the whole gulf appeared as one 
city. 















































i8 


THE GLORY OF THE CITY. 


What an enchanting picture must have presented itself to 
one approaching Pompeii by sea ! He beheld the bright, cheer¬ 
ful Grecian temples spreading out on the slopes before him ; the 
pillared Forum ; the rounded marble Theatres. He saw the 
grand Palaces descending to the very edge of the blue waves by 
noble flights of steps, surrounded with green pines, laurels and 
cypresses, from amidst whose dark foliage marble statues of gods 
gleamed whitely. 

The skillful architect, the sculptors, the painters, and the 
casters of bronze were all employed to make Pompeii an asylum 
of arts; all trades and callings endeavored to grace and beautify 
the city. The prodigious concourse of strangers who came here 
in search of health and recreation added new charms and life to* 
the scene. 

But behind all this, and encased as it were in a frame, the 
landscape rose in a gentle slope to the summit of the thundering 
mountain. But indications were not wanting of the peril with 
which the city was threatened. The whole district is volcanic ; 
and a few years before the final catastrophe, an earthquake had 
shaken Pompeii to its foundations; some of the buildings were 
much injured.^ On August 24, A.D. 79, the inhabitants were 
busily engaged in repairing the damage thus wrought, when sud¬ 
denly and without any previous warning a vast column of black 
smoke burst from the overhanging mountain. Rising to a pro¬ 
digious height in the cloudless summer sky,'it then gradually 
spread out like the head of some mighty Italian pine, hiding the 
sun, and overshadowing the earth for miles in distance. 

The darkness grew into profound night, only broken by the 
blue and sulphurous flashes which darted from the pitchy cloud. 
Soon the thick rain of thin, light ashes, almost imperceptible to 
the touch, fell upon the land. I hen quickly succeeded showers 
of small pumice stones and heavier ashes, and emitting stifling, 
eruptic fumes. After a time the sounds of approaching torrents 


DESTRUCTION. 


J 9 


were heard, and soon streaming rivers of dense black mud poured 
slowly but irresistibly down the mountain sides, and circled 
through the streets, insidiously creeping into such recesses as 
even the subtle ashes had failed to penetrate. There was now no 
place of shelter left. No man could defend himself against this 
double enemy. It was too late for flight for such as had remained - 
behind. Those who had taken refuge in the innermost parts of 
the houses, or in the subterranean passages, were closed up for¬ 
ever. Those who sought to flee through the streets were clogged 
by the small, loose pumice stones, which lay many feet deep, or 
were entangled and overwhelmed in the mud-streams, or were 
struck down by the rocks which fell from the heavens. If they 
escaped these dangers, blinded by the drifting ashes and groping 
in the dark, not knowing which way to go, they were overcome 
by the sulphurous vapors, and sinking on the highway were soon 
buried beneath the volcanic matter. Even many who had gained 
the open country, at the beginning of the eruption, were over¬ 
taken by the darkness and falling cinders, and perished miserably 
in the held or on the sea-shore, where they had vainly sought the 
means of flight. 

In three days the doomed city had disappeared. It lay 
buried beneath a vast mass of ashes, pumice stone and hardened 
mud, from twenty to seventy feet deep. Those of its terror- 
stricken inhabitants who escaped destruction, abandoned forever 
its desolate site. Years, generations, centuries went by, and the 
existence of Pompeii—yea, even its very name—had ceased to be 
remembered. The rich volcanic soil became covered with a pro¬ 
fusion of vegetation. Vineyards flourished and houses were built 
on the site of the buried city. 

Nearly eighteen hundred years had elapsed since the thun- 
derer Vesuvius had thrown the black mantle of ashes over the 
fair city before the resuscitation arrived. Some antique bronzes 
and utensils, discovered by a peasant, excited universal attention. 



20 


EXCAVATION. 


Excavations were begun, and Pompeii, shaking off as it were her 
musty grave clothes, stared from the classic and poetical age of 
the first into the prosaic modern world of the nineteenth century. 
The world was startled, and looked with wondering interest to 
see this ancient stranger arising from her tomb — to behold the 
awakening of the remote past from the womb of the earth which 
had so long hoarded it. 

The excavation has been assiduously prosecuted, until to-day 
three hundred and sixty houses, temples, theatres, schools, 
stores, factories, etc., have been thrown open before us with their 
treasured contents. It is often, but erroneously, supposed that 
Pompeii, like Plerculaneum, was overwhelmed by a flood of lava. 
Had this been the case, the work of excavation would have been 
immensely more difficult, and the result would have been far less 
important. The marbles must have been calcined, the bronzes 
melted, the frescoes effaced, and smaller articles destroyed by 
the fiery flood. The ruin was effected by showers of dust and 
scoriae, and by torrents of liquid mud, which formed a mould,, 
encasing the objects, thus preserving them from injury or decay. 
We thus gain a perfect picture of what a Roman city was eight¬ 
een hundred years ago, as everything is laid bare to us in almost 
a perfect state. 

What wealth of splendid vessels and utensils was contained 
in the chests and closets! Gold and gilded ivory, pearls and 
precious stones were used to decorate tables, chairs and vessels 
lor eating and drinking. Elegant lamps hung from the ceiling, 
and candelabra and little lamps of most exquisite shapes illumin¬ 
ated the apartments at night. To-day, looking at the walls, the 
eyes may feast on beautiful fresco paintings, with colors so vivid 
and fresh as il painted but yesterday; while gleaming everywhere 
on ceiling, wall and floor, are marbles, of rarest hue, sculptured 
into every conceivable form of grace and beauty, and inlaid in 
most artistic designs. 


ENTERING POMPEII. 



J^NTERINQ pOMPEII. 

We will now proceed to describe the general aspect of the 
city, and for this purpose it will be convenient to suppose that 
we have entered it by the gate of Herculaneum, though in other 
respects the Porta della Marina is the more usual, and, perhaps, 
the best entrance. 

On entering, the visitor finds himself in a street, running a 
little east of south, which leads to the Forum. To the right, 
stands a house formerly owned by a musician ; to the left, a 
thermopolium or shop for hot drinks; beyond is the house of the 
Vestals ; beyond this the custom-house ; and a little further on, 
where another street runs into this one from the north at a very 
acute angle, stands a public fountain. In the last-named street is 
a surgeon’s house ; at least one so named from the quantity of 
surgical instruments found in it, all made of bronze. On the 
right or western side of the street, by which we entered, the 
houses, as we have said, are built on the declivity of a rock, and 
are several stories high. 

The fountain is about one hundred and fifty yards from the 

« 1 

city gate. About the same distance, further on, the street 
divides into two ; the right-hand turning seems a by-street, the 
left-hand turning conducts you to the Forum. The most import¬ 
ant feature in this space is a house called the house of Sallust or 
of Actseon, from a painting in it representing that hunter’s death. 
It stands on an area about forty yards square, and is encompassed 
on three sides by streets ; by that namely which we have been 
describing, by another nearly parallel to it, and by a third, per¬ 
pendicular to these two. The whole quarter at present exca¬ 
vated, as far as the Street of the Baths, continued by the Street 
of Fortune, is divided, by six longitudinal and one transverse 
street, into what the Romans called islands, or insulated masses 


22 


THE STREETS OF THE CITY. 


of houses. Two of these are entirely occupied by the houses of 
Pansa and of the Faun, which, with their courts and gardens, are 
about one hundred yards long by forty wide. 

From the Street of the Baths and that of Fortune, which 
bound these islands on the south, two streets lead to the two cor¬ 
ners of the Forum; between them are baths, occupying nearly 
the whole island. Among other buildings are a milk-shop and 
o-ladiatorial school. At the northeast corner of the Forum was. 
a triumphal arch. At the end of the Street of the Baths and 
beginning of that of Fortune, another triumphal arch is still to 
be made out, spanning the street of Mercury, so that this was 
plainly the way of state into the city. The Forum is distant 
from the gate of Herculaneum about four hundred yards. Of it 
we shall give a full description in its place. Near the south- 
eastern corner two streets enter it, one running to the south, the 
other to the east. We will follow the former for about eighty 
yards, when it turns eastward for two hundred yards, and con¬ 
ducts us to the quarter of the theatres. The other street, which 
runs eastward from the Forum, is of more importance, and is 
called the Street of the Silversmiths ;* at the end of which a short 
street turns southwards, and meets the other route to the thea¬ 
tres. On both these routes the houses immediately bordering on 
the streets are cleared; but between them is a large rectangular 
plot of unexplored ground. Two very elegant houses at the 
southwest corner of the Forum were uncovered by the French 
general Championnet, while in command at Naples, and are 
known by his name. On the western side of the Forum two 
streets led down towards the sea; the excavations here consist 

almost entirely of public buildings, which will be described here¬ 
after. 

The quarter of the theatres comprises a large temple, called 
the Temple of Neptune or Hercules, a temple of Isis, a temple 


*Now the Street of Abundance. 


♦THE THEATRES OF POMPEII 


2 3 


of FEsculapius, two theatres, the Triangular Forum, and the 
quarters of the soldiers or gladiators. On the north and east it 



view of pompeii. ( From, a photograph.) 

is bounded by streets; to the south and west it seems to have 
been enclosed partly by the town walls, partly by its own. Here 
the continuous excavation ends, and we must cross vineyards to 



































































2 4 


VILLA OF JULIA FELIX. 


the amphitheatre, about five hundred and fifty yards distant from 
the theatre, in the southeast corner of the city, close to the walls, 
and in an angle formed by them. Close to the amphitheatre are 
traces of walls supposed to have belonged to a Forum Boarium, 
or cattle market. Near at hand, a considerable building, called 
the villa of Julia Felix, has been excavated and filled up again. 
On the walls of it was discovered the following inscription, which 
may serve to convey an idea of the wealth of some of the Pom¬ 
peian proprietors : 

In Praedis Juli^e Sp. F. Felicis 
Locantur 

Balneum Venerium et Nongentum Tabern^e Pergul.e 
Ccenacula Ex Idibus Aug Primis 
In idus Aug. Sextas Annos Continuos Quinque 
S. Q. D. L. E. N. C. 

That is.* u On the estate of Julia Felix, daughter of Spurius, are 
to be let a bath, a venereum, nine hundred shops, with booths and 
garrets, for a term of five continuous years, from the first to the 
sixth of the Ides of August.” The formula, S. Q. D. L. E. N. C., 
with which the advertisement concludes, is thought to stand for 
—si quis domi lenocinium exerceat ne conducito: “let no one 
apply who keeps a brothel.” 

A little to the south of the smaller theatre was discovered, 
in 1851, the Gate of Stabiae. Hence a long straight street, which 
has been called the Street of Stabias, traversed the whole breadth 
of the city, till it issued out on the northern side at the gate of 
Vesuvius. It has been cleared to the point where it intersects 
the Streets of Fortune and of Nola, which, with the Street of 
the Baths, traverse the city in its length. The Street of Stabisc 
forms the boundary of the excavations; all that part of Pompeii 
which lies to the east of it, with the exception of the amphithea¬ 
tre, and the line forming the Street of Nola, being still occupied 
by vineyards and cultivated fields. On the other hand, that part 



\ 



PAVEMENTS AND SIDEWALKS. 

of the city lying to the west of it has been for the most part dis¬ 
interred; though there are still some portions lying to the south 
and west of the Street of Abundance and the Forum, and to the 
east of the Vico Storto, which remain to be excavated. 

The streets of Pompeii are paved with large irregular pieces 
of lava joined neatly together, in which the chariot wheels have 
worn ruts, still discernible; in some places they are an inch and a 
half deep, and in the narrow streets follow one track; where the 
streets are wider, the ruts are more numerous and irregular. The 
width of the streets varies from eight or nine feet to about twenty- 
two, including the footpaths or trottoirs. In many places they 
are so narrow that they may be crossed at one stride; where they 
are wider, a raised stepping-stone, and sometimes two or three, 
have been placed in the centre of the crossing. These stones, 
though in the middle of the carriage way, did not much incon¬ 
venience those who drove about in the biga, or two-horsed chariot, 
as the wheels passed freely in the spaces left, while the horses, 
being loosely harnessed, might either have stepped over the stones 
or passed by the sides. The curb-stones are elevated from one 
foot to eighteen inches, and separate the foot-pavement from the 
road. Throughout the city there is hardly a street unfurnished 
with this convenience. Where there is width to admit of a broad 
foot-path, the interval between the curb and the line of building 
is filled up with earth, which has then been covered over with 
stucco, and sometimes with a coarse mosaic of brickwork. Here 
and there traces of this sort of pavement still remain, especially 
in those streets which were protected by porticoes. 



lO 






















y\RRANQEMENT Of jpRIVATE J4oUfEf. 


We will now give an account of some of the most remark¬ 
able private houses which have been disinterred; of the paintings, 
domestic utensils, and other articles found in them; and such in¬ 
formation upon the domestic manners of the ancient Italians as 
may seem requisite to the illustration of these remains. This 
branch of our subject is not less interesting, nor less extensive 
than the other. Temples and theatres* in equal preservation, and 
ol greater splendor than those at Pompeii, may be seen in many 
places; but towards acquainting us with the habitations, the pri¬ 
vate luxuries and elegancies of ancient life, not all the scattered 
fragments ol domestic architecture which exist elsewhere have 
done so much as this city, with its fellow-sufferer, Iderculaneum. 

Towards the last years of the republic, the Romans natu¬ 
ralized the arts ol Greece among themselves; and Grecian archi¬ 
tecture came into fashion at Rome, as we may learn, among other 
sources, from the letters ol Cicero to Atticus, which bear con¬ 
stant testimony to the strong interest which he took in ornament¬ 
ing his several houses, and mention Cyrus, his Greek architect. 
At this time immense fortunes were easily made from the spoils 
ol new conquests, or by peculation and maladministration of sub¬ 
ject provinces, and the money thus ill and easily acquired was 
squander ed in the most lavish luxury. One lavorite mode of in¬ 
dulgence was in splendor ol building. Lucius Cassius was the 
hi st who 01 namented his house with columns of foreign marble ; 
they were only six in number, and twelve feet high. He was 

26 

















ELEGANCE OF DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. 27 

soon surpassed by Scaurus, who placed in his house columns of 
the black marble called Lucullian, thirty-eight feet high, and of 
such vast and unusual weight that the superintendent of sewers, 
as we are told by Pliny,* took security for any injury which 
might happen to the works under his charge, before they were 
suffered to be conveyed along the streets. Another prodigal, by 
name Mamurra, set the example ot lining his rooms with slabs 
of marble. The best estimate, however, of the growth of archi¬ 
tectural luxury about this time may be found in what we are told 
by Pliny, that, in the year ot Rome 676, the house of Lepidus 
was the finest in the city, and thirty-five years later it was not 
the hundredth.'f We may mention, as an example of the lavish 
expenditure ot the Romans, that Domitius Ahenobarbus offered 
for the house ot Crassus a sum amounting to near $242,500, 
which was refused by the owner.J Nor were they less extrava¬ 
gant in their country houses. We may again quote Cicero, whose 
attachment to his Tusculan and Formian villas, and interest in 
ornamenting them, even in the most perilous times, is well known. 
Still more celebrated are the villas of Lucullus and Pollio; of the 
latter some remains are still to be seen near Pausilipo. 

Augustus endeavored by his example to check this extrav¬ 
agant passion, but he produced little effect. And in the palaces 
of the emperors, and especially the Aurea Domus, the Golden 
House of Nero, the domestic architecture of Rome, or, we might 
probably say, of the world, reached its extreme. 

The arrangement of the houses, though varied, of course, by 
local circumstances, and according to the rank and circumstances 
of the master, was pretty generally the same in all. The prin¬ 
cipal rooms, differing only in size and ornament, recur every¬ 
where; those supplemental ones, which were invented only for 
convenience or luxury, vary according to the tastes and circum¬ 
stances of the master. 

* Nat. Hist, xxxvi. 2 f lb. xxxvi. 15. \ Sexagies sestertium. 


28 


GROUND PLAN OP ROMAN HOUSE. 



GROUND PLAN OP A ROMAN HOUSE. 


The private part 
comprised the peri¬ 
style, bed - cham¬ 
bers, triclinium, 
ceci, picture-galle¬ 
ry, library, baths, 
exedra, xystus, etc. 
We proceed to ex¬ 
plain the meaning 
of these terms. 
Before great 
mansions there was generally a court or area, upon which the 
portico opened, either surrounding three sides of the area, or 
merely running along the front of the house. In smaller houses 
the portico ranged even with the street. Within the portico, or 
if there was no portico, opening directly to the street, was the 
vestibule, consisting of one or more spacious apartments. It was 
considered to be without the house, and was always open for the 
reception of those who came to wait there until the doors should 
be opened. The prothyrum, in Greek architecture, was the 
same as the vestibule. In Roman architecture, it was a passage- 
room, between the outer or house-door which opened to the ves¬ 
tibule, and an inner door which closed the entrance of the atrium. 
In the vestibule, or in an apartment opening upon it, the porter, 
ostiarius , usually had his seat. 

The atrium, or cavsedium, for they appear to have signified 
the same thing, was the most important, and usually the most 
splendid apartment of the house. Here the owner received his 
crowd of morning visitors, who were not admitted to the inner 
apartments. The term is thus explained by Varro : “ The hol¬ 

low of the house (cavum sedium) is a covered place within the 
walls, left open to the common use of all. It is called Tuscan, 
from the Tuscans, after the Romans began to imitate their cavse- 





















































EXTERIOR APARTMENTS 


2 9 


dium. The word atrium is derived from the Atriates, a people 
of Tuscany, from whom the pattern of it was taken.” Origi¬ 
nally, then, the atrium was the common room of resort for the 
whole family, the place of their domestic occupations; and such 
it probably continued in the humbler ranks of life. A general 
description of it may easily be given. It was a large apartment, 
roofed over, but with an opening in the centre, called compluvium , 
towards which the roof sloped, so as to throw the rain-water 
into a cistern in the floor called impluvium . 

The roof around the compluvium was edged with a row of 
highly ornamented tiles, called antefixes, on which a mask or 
some other figure was moulded. At the corners there were usu¬ 
ally spouts, in the form of lions’ or dogs’ heads, or any fantastical 
device which the architect might fancy, which carried the rain¬ 
water clear out into the impluvium, whence it passed into cisterns; 
from which again it was drawn for household purposes. For 
drinking, river-water, and still more, well-water, was preferred. 
Often the atrium was adorned with fountains, supplied through 
leaden or earthenware pipes, from aqueducts or other raised heads 
of water; for the Romans knew the property of fluids, which 
causes them to stand at the same height in communicating 
vessels. This is distinctly recognized by Pliny,* though their 
common use of aqueducts, in preference to pipes, has led to a 
supposition that this great hydrostatical principle was unknown 
to them. The breadth of the impluvium, according to Vitruvius, 
was not less than a quarter, nor greater than a third, of the whole 
breadth of the atrium; its length was regulated by the same 
standard. The opening above it was often shaded by a colored 
veil, which diffused a softened light, and moderated the intense 
heat of an Italian sun.f The splendid columns of the house of 

* Nat. Hist. xxxi. 6, S. 31: Aqua in plumbo subit altitudmem exortus sui. 

f Rubent (vela soil.) in cavis sedium, et museum a sole defendunt. We may con¬ 
clude, then, that the impluvium was sometimes ornamented with moss or flowers, 
unless the words cavis sedium may be extended to the court of the peristyle, which was 
commonly laid out as a garden. [The latter seems more likely.] 


3° 


INTERIOR APARTMENTS. 



'infr'WPr'mrmnrMTTiM!! 






Scaurus, at Rome, were placed, as we learn from Pliny,* in the 
atrium of his house. The walls were painted with landscapes or 
arabesques—a practice introduced about the time of Augustus—- 
or lined with slabs of foreign and costly marbles, of which the 
Romans were passionately fond. The pavement was composed 
of the same precious material, or of still more valuable mosaics. 

The tablinum 
was an append¬ 
age of the atrium, 
and usually en¬ 
tirely open to it. 
It contained, as its 
name imports,f 
the family arch¬ 
ives, the statues, 
pictures, geneal¬ 
ogical tables, and 
other relics of a 
long line of an¬ 
cestors. 

Alse, wings, 
were similar but 
smaller apart¬ 
ments, or rather 
recesses, on each 
side of the fur¬ 
ther part of the 
atrium. Fauces, 
jaws, were pas- 


VESTIBULE OF A POMPEIAN MOUSE. 


sages, more especially those which passed to the interior of the 
house from the atrium. 


* xxxvi. 1. 


f From tabula or tabella, a picture. Another derivation is, “ quasi e tabulis com- 
pactum, because the large openings into it might be closed by shutters. 















































































































































































































































































































































































DINING HALLS. 


3 1 


Iii houses of small extent, strangers were lodged in cham¬ 
bers which surrounded and opened into the atrium. The great, 
whose connections spread into the provinces, and who were 
visited by numbers who, on coming to Rome, expected to profit 
by their hospitality, had usually a hospitium , or place of recep¬ 
tion for strangers, either separate, or among the dependencies of 
their palaces. 

Of the private apartments the first to be mentioned is the 
peristyle, which usually lay behind the atrium, and communicated 
with it both through the tablinum and by fauces. In its general 
plan it resembled the atrium, being in fact a "court, open to the 
sky in the middle, and surrounded by a colonnade, but it was 
larger in its dimensions, and the centre court was often decorated 
with shrubs and flowers and fountains, and was then called xystus. 
It should be greater in extent when measured transversely than 
in length,'* and the intercolumniations should not exceed four, nor 
fall short of three diameters of the columns. 

Of the arrangement of the bed-chambers we know little. 
They seem to have been small and inconvenient. When there 
was room they had usually a procceton, or ante-chamber. Vitru¬ 
vius recommends that they should face the east, for the benefit 
of the early sun. One of the most important apartments in the 
whole house was the triclinium, or dining-room, so named from 
the three beds, which encompassed the table on three sides, 
leaving the fourth open to the attendants. The prodigality 
of the Romans in matters of eating is well known, and it ex¬ 
tended to all matters connected with the pleasures of the table. 
In their rooms, their couches, and all the furniture of their enter¬ 
tainments, magnificence and extravagance were carried to their 
highest point. The rich had several of these apartments, to be 
used at different seasons, or on various occasions. Lucullus, cele¬ 
brated for his wealth and profuse expenditure, had a certain 

* This rule, however, is seldom observed in the Pompeian houses. 


3 2 


THE TRICLINIUM. 


standard of expenditure for each triclinium, so that when his ser¬ 
vants were told which hall he was to sup in, they knew exactly 
the style of entertainment to be prepared; and there is a well- 
known story of the way in which he deceived Pompey and Cicero, 
when they insisted on going home with him to see his family sup¬ 
per, by merely sending word home that he would sup in the 
Apollo, one of the most splendid of his halls, in which he never 
gave an entertainment for less than 50,000 denarii, about $8,000. 
Sometimes the ceiling was contrived to^open and let down a sec¬ 
ond course of meats, with showers of flowers and perfumed 
waters, while rope-dancers performed their evolutions over the 
heads of the company. The performances of these funambuli 
are frequently represented in paintings at Pompeii. Mazois, in 
his work entitled “ Le Palais de Seamus,” has given a fancy pic¬ 
ture of the habitation of a Roman noble of the highest class, in 
which he has embodied all the scattered notices of domestic life, 
which a diligent perusal of the Latin writers has enabled him to 
collect. Plis description of the triclinium of Scaurus will give 
the reader the best notion of the style in which such an apartment 
was furnished and ornamented. For each particular in the de¬ 
scription he quotes some authority. We shall not, however, 
encumber our pages with references to a long list of books not 
likely to be in the possession of most readers. 

“ Bronze lamps,* dependent from chains of the same metal, 
or raised on richly-wrought candelabra, threw around the room 
a brilliant light. Slaves set apart for this service watched them, 
trimmed the wicks, and from time to time supplied them with 
oil. 

“ The triclinium is twice as long as it is broad, and divided, 
as it were, into two parts — the upper occupied by the table and 
the couches, the lower left empty for the convenience of the 
attendants and spectators. Around the former the walls, up to 

* The best of these were made at JEgina. The more common ones cost from $100 to 
$125; some sold for as much as $2000. Plin. Hist. Nat. xxxiv. 3. 



THE TRICLINIUM. 


33 


a certain height, are ornamented with valuable hangings. The 
decorations of the rest of the room are noble, and yet appropriate 
to its destination ; garlands, entwined with ivy and vine-branches, 
divide the walls into compartments bordered with fanciful orna¬ 
ments; in the centre of each of which are painted with admirable 

elegance young Fauns, 
or half-naked Bacchant¬ 
es, carrying thyrsi, vases 
and all the furniture of 
festive meetings. Above 
the columns is a large 
frieze, divided into 
twelve compartments ; 
each of these is sur¬ 
mounted by one of the 
signs of the Zodiac, and 
contains paintings of the 
meats which are in high¬ 
est season in each month; 
'SO that under Sagittary (December), we see shrimps, shell-fish, 
and birds of passage ; under Capricorn (January), lobsters, sea- 
fish, wild-boar and game ; under Aquarius (February), ducks, 
plovers, pigeons, water-rails, etc. 

“ The table, made of citron wood' 5, from the extremity of 
Mauritania, more precious than gold, rested upon ivory feet, and 
was covered by a plateau of massive silver, chased and carved, 
weighing five hundred pounds. The couches, which would con¬ 
tain thirty persons, were made of bronze overlaid with ornaments 
in silver, gold and tortoise-shell ; the mattresses of Gallic wool, 

* These citrese mens® have given rise to considerable discussion. Pliny says that 
they were made of the roots or knots of the wood, and esteemed on account of their veins 
and markings, which were like a tiger’s skin, or peacock’s tail (xiii. 91, sqq.) Some 
■copies read cedri for citri; and it has been suggested that the cypress is really meant, the 
roots and knots of which are large and veined; whereas the citron is never used for 
cabinet work, and is neither veined nor knotted. 

3 



TRICLINIUM. 


























































































I 


the triclinium. 

dyed purple ; the valuable cushions, stuffed with feathers, were 
covered with stuffs woven and embroidered with silk mixed with 
threads of gold. Chrysippus told us that they were made at 
Babylon, and had cost four millions of sesterces.' w 

“ The mosaic pavement, by a singular caprice of the archi¬ 
tect, represented all the fragments of a feast, as if they had fallen 
in common course on the floor ; so that at the first glance the 
room seemed not to have been swept since the last meal, and it 
was called from hence, asarotos oikos , the unswept saloon. At 
the bottom of the hall were set out vases of Corinthian brass. 
This triclinium, the largest of four in the palace of Scaurus, would 
easily contain a table of sixty covers ;f but he seldom brings to¬ 
gether so large a number of guests, and when on great occasions 
he entertains four or five hundred persons, it is usually in the 
atrium. This eating-room is reserved for summer; he has others 
for spring, autumn, and winter, for the Romans turn the change 
of season into a source of luxury. His establishment is so ap¬ 
pointed that for each triclinium he has a great number of tables, 
of different sorts, and each table has its own service and its par¬ 
ticular attendants. 

u While waiting for their masters, young slaves strewed over 
the pavement saw-dust dyed with saffron and vermilion, mixed 
with a brilliant powder made from the lapis specularis, or talc. 11 

Pinacotheca, the picture-gallery, and Bibliotheca, the li¬ 
brary, need no explanation. The latter was usually small, as a 
large number of rolls ( volumina ) could be contained within a 
narrow space. 

Exedra bore a double signification. It is either a seat, in¬ 
tended to contain a number of persons, like those before the Gate 

* About $161,000. 

f The common furniture of a triclinium was three couches, placed on three sides of 
a square table, each containing three persons, in accordance with the favorite maxim, 
that a party should not consist of more than the Muses nor of fewer than the Graces, not 
more than nine nor less than three. Where such numbers were entertained, couches 
must have been placed along the sides of long tables. 


MATERIALS AND CONSTRUCTION. 


35 


of Herculaneum, or a spacious hall for conversation and the gen¬ 
eral purposes of society. In the public baths, the word is espe¬ 
cially applied to those apartments which were frequented by the 
philosophers. 

Such was the arrangement, such the chief apartments of a 
Roman house; they were on the ground-floor, the upper stories 
being for the most part left to the occupation of slaves, freed- 
men, and the lower branches of the family. We must except, 
however, the terrace upon the top of all (solarium), a favorite 
place of resort, often adorned with rare flowers and shrubs, 
planted in huge cases of earth, and with fountains and trellises, 
under which the evening meal might at pleasure be taken. 

The reader will not, of course, suppose that in all houses all 
these apartments were to be found, and in the same order. From 
the confined dwelling of the tradesman to the palace of the patri¬ 
cian, all degrees of accommodation and elegance were to be 
found. The only object of this long catalogue is to familiarize 
the reader with the general type of those objects which we are 
about to present to him, and to explain at once, and collectively, 
those terms of art which will be of most frequent occurrence. 

The reader will gain a clear idea of a Roman house from 
the ground-plan of that of Diomedes, given a little further on, 
which is one of the largest and most regularly constructed at 
Pompeii. 

We may here add a.few observations, derived, as well as 
much of the preceding matter, from the valuable work of Mazois, 
relative to the materials and method of construction of the Pom¬ 
peian houses. Every species of masonry described by Vitruvius, 
it is said, may here be met with; but the cheapest and most dur¬ 
able sorts have been generally preferred. 

Copper, iron, lead, have been found employed for the same 
purposes as those for which we now use them. Iron is more 
plentiful than copper, contrary to what is generally observed in 


3 6 


THE SALVE LUCRU. 


ancient works. It is evident from articles ol furniture, etc., found 
in the ruins, that the Italians were highly skilled in the art of 
working metals, yet they seem to have excelled in ornamental 
work, rather than in the solid and neat construction of useful arti¬ 
cles. For instance, their lock-work is coarse, hardly equal to 
that which is now executed in the same country, while the ex¬ 
ternal ornaments of doors, bolts, handles, etc., are elegantly 
wrought. 

The first private house that we will describe is found by 
passing down a street from the Street of Abundance. The visitor 
finds on the right, just beyond the back wall of the Thermae 
Stabianae, the entrance of a handsome dwelling. An inscription 
in red letters on the outside wall containing the name of Siricus 
has occasioned the conjecture that this was the name of the 
owner of the house ; while a mosaic inscription on the floor of 
the prothyrum, having the words Salve Lucru, has given rise 
to a second appellation for the dwelling. 

On the left of the prothyrum is an apartment with two 
doors, one opening on a wooden staircase leading to an upper 
floor, the other forming the entry to a room next the street, with 
a window like that described in the other room next the prothy¬ 
rum. The walls of this chamber are white, divided by red and 
yellow zones into compartments, in which are depicted the sym¬ 
bols of the principal deities—as the eagle and globe of Jove, the 
peacock of Juno, the lance, helmet and shield of Minerva, the 
panther of Bacchus, a Sphinx, having near it the mystical chest 
and sistrum of Isis, who was the Venus Physica of the Pomp¬ 
eians, the caduceus and other emblems of Mercury, etc. There 
are also two small landscapes. 

Next to this is a large and handsome exedra, decorated with 
good pictures, a third of the size of life: That on the left repre¬ 
sents Neptune and Apollo presiding at the building of Troy; the 
former, armed with his trident, is seated ; the latter, crowned 



PAINTINGS AND DECORATIONS. 


37 


with laurel, is on foot, and leans with his right arm on a lyre. 
On the wall opposite to this is a picture of Vulcan present¬ 
ing the arms of Achilles to Thetis. The celebrated shield is 
supported by Vulcan on the anvil, and displayed to Thetis, who 
is seated, whilst a winged female figure standing at her side 



Hercules drunk. ( From Pompeii.) 


points out to her with a rod the marvels of its workmanship. 
Agreeably to the Homeric description the shield is encircled with 
the signs of the zodiac, and in the middle are the bear, the 
dragon, etc. On the ground are the breast-plate, the greaves 
and the helmet. 

In the third picture is seen Hercules crowned with ivy, ine¬ 
briated, and lying on the ground at the foot of a cypress tree. 
























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE DRUNKEN HERCULES. 


lie is clothed in a sandy x , or short transparent tunic, and has on 
his feet a sort of shoes, one of which he has kicked oft. He sup¬ 
ports himself on his left arm, while the right is raised in drunken 
ecstasy. A little Cupid plucks at his garland of ivy, another 
tries to drag away his ample goblet. In the middle of the pic¬ 
ture is an altar with festoons. On the top of it three Cupids, 
assisted by another who has climbed up the tree, endeavor to 
bear on their shoulders the hero’s quiver; while on the ground, 
to the left of the altar, four other Cupids are sporting with his 
club. A votive tablet with an image of Bacchus rests at the foot 
of the altar, and indicates the god to whom Hercules has been 
sacrificing. 

On the left of the picture, on a little eminence, is a group of 
three females round a column having on its top a vase. The 
chief and central figure, which is naked to the waist, has in her 
hand a fan; she seems to look with interest on the drunken hero, 
but whom she represents it is difficult to say. On the right, half 
way up a mountain, sits Bacchus, looking on the scene with a com¬ 
placency not unmixed with surprise. He is surrounded by his 
usual rout of attendants, one of whom bears a thyrsus. The an¬ 
nexed engraving will convey a clearer idea of the picture, which 
for grace, grandeur of composition, and delicacy and freshness of 
coloring, is among the best discovered at Pompeii. The exedra 
is also adorned with many other paintings and ornaments which 
it would be too long to describe. 

On the same side of the atrium, beyond a passage leading 
to a kitchen with an oven, is an elegant triclinium fenesirainm 
looking upon an adjacent garden. The walls are black, divided 
by red and yellow zones, with candelabra and architectural mem¬ 
bers intermixed with quadrupeds, birds, dolphins, Tritons, masks, 
etc., and in the middle of each compartment is a Bacchante. In 
each wall are three small paintings executed with greater care. 


WALL DECORATION. 


39 


The first, which has been removed, represented FEneas in his 
tent, who, accompanied by Mnestheus, Achates, and young 
Ascanius, presents his thigh to the surgeon, lapis, in order to ex¬ 
tract from it the barb of an arrow. FEneas supports himself 
with the lance in his right hand, and leans with the other on the 
shoulder of his son, who, overcome by his father’s misfortune, 
wipes the tears from his eyes with the hem of his robe; \Hiile 
lapis, kneeling on one leg before the hero, is intent on extracting 
the barb with his forceps. But the wound is not to be healed 
without divine interposition. In the background of the picture 
Venus is hastening to her son’s relief, bearing in her hand the 
branch of dictamnus, which is to restore him to his pristine vigor. 

The subject of the second picture, which is much damaged, 
is not easy to be explained. It represents a naked hero, armed 
with sword and spear, to whom a woman crowned with laurel 
and clothed in an ample peplum is pointing out another female 
figure. The latter expresses by her gestures her grief and in¬ 
dignation at the warrior’s departure, the imminence of which is 
signified by the chariot that awaits him. Signor Fiorelli thinks 
he recognizes in this picture Turnus, Lavinia, and Amata, when 
the queen supplicates Turnus not to fight with the Trojans. 

The third painting represents Hermaphroditus surrounded 
by six nymphs, variously employed. 

From the atrium a narrow fauces or corridor led into the 
garden. Three steps on the left connected this part of the house 
with the other and more magnificent portion having its entrance 
from the Stracla Stabiana. The garden was surrounded on two 
sides with a portico, on the right of which are some apartments 
which do not require particular notice. 

The house entered at a higher level, by the three steps just 
mentioned, was at first considered as a separate house, and by 
Fiorelli has been called the House of the Russian Princes, 
from some excavations made here in 1851 in presence of the sons 


4 ° 


THE PERISTYLE. 


of the Emperor of Russia. The peculiarities observable in this 
house are that the atrium and peristyle are broader than they are 
deep, and that they are not separated by a tablinum and other 
rooms, but simply by a wall. In the centre of the Tuscan atrium, 
entered from the Street of Stabise, is a handsome marble im- 
pluvium. At the top of it is a square cippus, coated with marble, 
and having a leaden pipe which flung the water into a square vase 
or basin supported by a little base of white marble, ornamented 
with acanthus leaves. Beside the fountain is a table of the same 
material, supported by two legs beautifully sculptured, of a 
chimsera and a griffin. On this table was a little bronze group 
of Hercules armed with his club, and a young Phrygian kneeling 
before him. 

From the atrium the peristyle is entered by a large door. It 
is about forty-six feet broad and thirty-six deep, and has ten col¬ 
umns, one of which still sustains a fragment of the entablature. 
The walls were painted in red and yellow panels alternately, with 
figures of Latona, Diana, Bacchantes, etc. At the bottom of 
the peristyle, on the right, is a triclinium. In the middle is a 
small cecus, with two pillars richly ornamented with arabesques. 
A little apartment on the left has several pictures. 

In this house, at a height of seventeen Neapolitan palms 
(nearly fifteen feet) from the level of the ground, were discovered 
four skeletons together in an almost vertical position. Twelve 
palms lower was another skeleton, with a hatchet near it. This 
man appears to have pierced the wall of one of the small cham¬ 
bers of the prothyrum, and was about to enter it, when he was 
smothered, either by the falling in of the earth or by the mephitic 
exhalations. It has been thought that these persons perished 
while engaged in searching for valuables after the catastrophe. 

In the back room of a thermopolium not far from this spot 
was discovered a graffito of part of the first line of the HEneid, 
in which the rs were turned into /s : 

Alma vilumque cano Tlo. f 


THE HOUSE OF SIRICUS. 


4 1 


We will now return to the house of Siricus. Contiguous to 
it in the Via del Lupanare is a building having two doors sepa¬ 
rated with pilasters. By way of sign, an elephant was painted 
on the wall, enveloped by a large serpent and tended by a pigmy. 
Above was the inscription : Sittius restituit elephantum; and be¬ 
neath the following : 

Hospitium hie locatur 
Triclinium cum tribus lectis 
Et comm. 

Both the painting and the inscription have now disappeared. 
The discovery is curious, as proving that the ancients used signs 
for their taverns. Orelli has given in his Inscriptions in Gaul, 
one of a Cock (a Gallo Gallinacio). In that at Pompeii the last 
word stands for “ commodis.” u Here is a triclinium with three 
beds and other conveniences.” 

Just opposite the gate of Siricus was another house also sup¬ 
posed to be a caupona , or tavern, from some chequers painted on 
the door-posts. On the wall are depicted two large serpents, the 
emblem sq frequently met with. They were the symbols of the 
Lares viales, or compitales, and, as we have said, rendered the 
place sacred against the commission of any nuisance. The cross, 
which is sometimes seen on the walls of houses in a modern 
Italian city, serves the same purpose. Above the serpents is the 
following inscription, in tolerably large white characters: Otio- 
sis locus hie non est, discede morator. “ Lingerer, depart; this 
is no place for idlers.” An injunction by the way which seems 
rather to militate against the idea of the house having been a 
tavern. 

The inscription just mentioned suggests an opportunity for 
giving a short account of similar ones; we speak not of inscrip¬ 
tions cut in stone, and affix'ed to temples and other public build¬ 
ings, but such as were either painted, scrawled in charcoal and 
other substances, or scratched with a sharp point, such as a nail 


4 2 


POLITICAL INSCRIPTIONS. 


or knife, on the stucco of walls and pillars. Such inscriptions 
afford us a peep both into the public and the domestic life of the 
Pompeians. Advertisements of a political character were com¬ 
monly painted on the exterior walls in large letters in black and 
red paint; poetical effusions or pasquinades, etc., with coal or 
chalk (Martial, Eftig. xii. 61, 9); while notices of a domestic 
kind are more usually found in the interior of the houses, scratched, 
as we have said, on the stucco, whence they have been called 
graffiti. 

The numerous political inscriptions bear testimony to the 
activity of public life in Pompeii. These advertisements, which 
for the most part turn on the election of sediles, duumvirs, and 
other magistrates, show that the Pompeians, at the time when 
their city was destroyed, were in all the excitement of the ap¬ 
proaching comitiafor the election of such magistrates. We shall 
here select a few of the more interesting inscriptions, both relat¬ 
ing to public and domestic matters. 

It seems to have been customary to paint over old advertise¬ 
ments with a coat of white, and so to obtain a fresh surface for 
new ones, just as the bill-sticker remorselessly pastes Iris bill over 
that of some brother of the brush. In some cases this new coat¬ 
ing has been detached, or has fallen off, thus revealing an older 
notice, belonging sometimes to a period antecedent to the Social 
War. Inscriptions of this kind are found only on the solid stone 
pillars of the more ancient buildings, and not on the stucco, with 
which at a later period almost everything was plastered. Their 
antiquity is further certified by some of them being in the Oscan 
dialect; while those in Latin are distinguished from more recent 
ones in the same language by the forms of the letters, by the 
names which appear in them, and by archaisms in grammar and 
orthography. Inscriptions in the Greek tongue are rare, though 
the letters ol the Greek alphabet, scratched on walls at a little 
height from the ground, and thus evidently the work of school- 


ELECTIONEERING ADVERTISEMENTS. 


43 


boys, show that Greek must have been extensively taught at 
Pompeii. 

The normal form of electioneering advertisements contains 
the name of the person recommended, the office for which he is a 
candidate, and the name of the person, or persons, who recom¬ 
mended him, accompanied in general with the formula O. V. F. 
From examples written in full, recently discovered, it appears that 
these letters mean or at (or or ant') vos facialis: u beseech you to 
create” (aedile and so forth). The letters in question were, be¬ 
fore this discovery, very often thought to stand for orat ut faveat , 
u begs him to favor;” and thus the meaning of the inscription was 
entirely reversed, and the person recommending converted into 
the person recommended. In the following example for instance 
— M. Holconium Priscum duumvirum juri dicundo O. V. F. 
Philippics / the meaning, according to the older interpretation, 
will be: “ Philippus beseeches M. Holconius Priscus, duumvir of 
justice, to favor or patronize him;” whereas the true sense is: 
u Philippus beseeches you to create M. Flolconius Priscus a 
duumvir of justice.” From this misinterpretation wrong names 
have frequently been given to houses; as is probably the case, for 
instance, with the house of Pansa, which, from the tenor of the 
inscription, more probably belonged to Paratus, who posted on 
his own walls a request to passers-by to make his friend Pansa 
aedile. Had it been the house of Pansa, when a candidate for the 
sedileship, and if it was the custom for such candidates to post 
recommendatory notices on their doors, it may be supposed that 
Pansa would have exhibited more than this single one from a 
solitary friend. This is a more probable meaning than that Par¬ 
atus solicited in this way the patronage of Pansa; for it would 
have been a bad method to gain it by disfiguring his walls in so 
impertinent a manner. We do not indeed mean to deny that 
adulatory inscriptions were sometimes written on the houses or 
doors of powerful or popular men or pretty women. A verse of 



44 


ELECTIONEERING ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Plautus bears testimony to such a custom (Impleantur mese foreis. 
elogiorum carbonibus. Mercator , act ii. sc. 3). But first, the 
inscription on the so-called house of Pansa was evidently not of 
an adulatory, but of a recommendatory character; and secondly, 
those of the former kind, as we learn from this same verse, seem 
to have been written by passing admirers, with some material 
ready to the hand, such as charcoal or the like, and not painted 
on the walls with care, and time, and expense; a proceeding 
which we can hardly think the owner of the house, if he was a 
modest and sensible man, would have tolerated. 

Recommendations of candidates were often accompanied 
with a word or two in their praise; as dignus , or dignissimus 
est , probissimus, juvenis integer , frugi , omni bono meritus , and 
the like. Such recommendations are sometimes subscribed by 
guilds or corporations, as well as by private persons, and show 
that there were a great many such trade unions at Pompeii.. 
Thus we find mentioned the offiectores (dyers), pi stores (bakers), 
aurijices (goldsmiths), pomarii (fruiterers), cceparii (green¬ 
grocers), lignarii (wood merchants), plostrarii (cart-wrights), 
piscicapi (fishermen), agricolce (husbandmen), muiiones (mule¬ 
teers), culinarii (cooks full ones (fullers), and others. Adver¬ 
tisements of this sort appear to have been laid hold of as a vehicle 
for street wit, just as electioneering squibs are perpetrated among 
ourselves. Thus we find mentioned, as if among the companies, 
the pilicrepi (ball-players), the seribibi (late topers), the dor- 
mientes universi (all the worshipful company of sleepers), and as 
a climax, Pompeiani universi (all the Pompeians, to a man, vote 
for so and so). One of these recommendations, purporting to 
emanate from a “teacher’ 1 or u professor, 11 runs, Valentins cum 
discentes suos (Valentius with his disciples); the bad grammar 
being probably intended as a gibe upon .one of the poor man’s- 
weak points. 

The inscriptions in chalk and coal, the graffiti , and occa- 


THE GRAFFITI. 


45 


■sionally painted inscriptions, contain sometimes well-known verses 
from poets still extant. Some of these exhibit variations from 
the modern text, but being written by not very highly educated 
persons, they seldom or never present any various readings that 
it would be desirable to adopt, and indeed contain now and then 
prosodical errors. Other verses, some of them by no means con¬ 
temptible, are either taken from pieces now lost, or are the inven¬ 
tion of the writer himself. Many of these inscriptions are of 
course of an amatory character; some convey intelligence of not 
much importance to anybody but the writer—as, that he is 
troubled with a cold—or was seventeen centuries ago—or that he 

considers somebody who does not invite him to supper as no 

✓ 

better than a brute and barbarian, or invokes blessings on the man 
that does. Some are capped by another hand with a biting sar¬ 
casm on the first writer, and many, as might be expected, are 
scurrilous and indecent. Some of the graffiti on the interior 
walls and pillars of houses are memoranda of domestic trans¬ 
actions; as, how much lard was bought, how many tunics sent 
to the wash, when a child or a donkey was born, and the like. 
One of this kind, scratched on the wall of the peristyle of the 
corner house in the Sirada della Fortuna and Vicolo deffii 
Scienziati , appears to be an account of the dispensator or over¬ 
seer of the tasks in spinning allotted to the female slaves of the 
establishment, and is interesting as furnishing us with their names, 
which are Vitalis, Florentina, Amarullis, Januaria, Heracla, Maria 
(Maria, feminine of Marius, not Marfa), Lalagia (reminding us 
of Horace’s Lalage), Damalis, and Doris. The pensum , or 
weight of wool delivered to each to be spun, is spelled pesu , the n 
and final m being omitted, just as we find salve lucru , for lucrum , 
written on the threshold of the house of Siricus. In this form, 
pesu is very close to the Italian word peso. 

We have already alluded now and then to the rude etchings 
and caricatures of these wall-artists, but to enter fully into the 





4 6 


STREET OF THE LUPANAR. 


subject of the Pompeian inscriptions and graffiti would almost 
demand a separate volume, and we must thereioie lesumc the 
thread of our description. 

A little beyond the house of Siricus, a small street, running 
down at right angles from the direction ol the Forum, enters the 
Via del Lupanare. Just at their junction, and having an en¬ 
trance into both, stands the Lupanar, from which the latter street 
derives its name. We can not venture upon a description of this 
resort of Pagan immorality. It is kept locked up, but the guide 
will procure the key for those who may wish to see it. Next to 
it is the House of the Fuller, in which was found the elegant 
little bronze statuette of Narcissus, now in the Museum. The 
house contained nothing else of interest. 

The Via del Lupanare terminates in the Street of the 
Augustals, or of the Dried Fruits. In this latter street, nearly 
opposite the end of the Via del Lupanare, but a little to the left, 
is the House of Narcissus, or of the Mosaic Fountain. This 
house is one of recent excavation. At the threshold is a Mosaic 
of a bear, with the word Have, The prothyrum is painted with 
figures on a yellow ground. On the left is a medallion of a 
satyr and nymph; the opposite medallion is destroyed. 

The atrium is paved with mosaic. The first room on the 
right-hand side of it has a picture of Narcissus admiring him¬ 
self in the water. The opposite picture has a female figure 
seated, with a child in her arms, and a large chest open before 
her. The tablinum is handsomely paved with mosaic and marble* 
Behind this, in place of a peristyle, is a court or garden, the wall 
ot which is painted with a figure bearing a basin. At the bot¬ 
tom is a handsome mosaic fountain, from which the house derives 
one ot its names, with a figure of Neptune surrounded by fishes 
and sea-fowl; above are depicted large wild boars. 

On the opposite side ot the way, at the eastern angle of the 
Street ot the Lupanar, is the House of the Rudder and Trident, 



EIGHTY LOAVES OF BREAD FOUND. 


47 


also called the House of Mars and Venus. The first of these 
names is derived from the mosaic pavement in the prothyrum, 
in which the objects mentioned are represented; while a medal¬ 
lion picture in the atrium, with heads of Mars and Venus, gave 
rise to the second appellation. The colors of this picture are 
still quite fresh, a result which Signor Fiorelli attributes to his 
having caused a varnish of wax to be laid over the painting at 
the time of its discovery. Without some such protection the 
colors of these pictures soon decay; the cinnabar, or vermilion, 
especially, turns black after a few days’ exposure to the light. 

The atrium, as usual, is surrounded with bed-chambers. A 
peculiarity not yet found in any other house is a niche or closet 
on the left of the atrium, having on one side an opening only large 
enough to introduce the hand, whence it has been conjectured 
that it served as a receptacle for some valuable objects. It is 
painted inside with a wall of quadrangular pieces of marble of 
various colors, terminated at top with a cornice. In each of the 
squares is a fish, bird, or quadruped. 

This closet or niche stands at a door of the room in which is 
an entrance to a subterranean passage, having its exit in the Via 
del Lupanare. There is nothing very remarkable in the other 
apartments of this house. Behind is a peristyle with twelve 
columns, in the garden of which shrubs are said to have been dis¬ 
covered in a carbonized state. 

Further down the same Street of the Augustals, at the angle 
which it forms with the Street of Stabiae, is the house of a baker, 
having on the external wall the name Modestum in red letters. 
For a tradesman it seems to have been a comfortable house, 
having an atrium and fountain, and some painted chambers. Be¬ 
yond the atrium is a spacious court with mills and an oven. The 
oven was charged with more than eighty loaves, the forms of 
which are still perfect, though they are reduced to a carbona¬ 
ceous state. They are preserved in the Museum. 


4 8 


THE HOUSE OF THE BALCONY. 


The narrow street to which we have alluded, as entering the 
Via del Lupanare nearly opposite to the house ol Siricus, has been 
called the Via del Balcone, from a small house with a projecting 
balcony or msenianum. Indications ol balconies have been found 
elsewhere, and indeed there were evidently some in the Via del 
Lupanare ; but this is the only instance ol one restored to its 
pristine state, through the care of Signor Fiorelli in substituting 
fresh timbers for those which had become carbonized. The vis¬ 
itor may ascend to the first floor of this house, from which the 
balcony projects several feet into the narrow lane. In the atrium 
of this house is a very pretty fountain. 

The house next to that of the Balcony, facing the entrance 
of a small street leading from the Via dell Abbondanza, and num¬ 
bered 7 on the door post, has a few pictures in a tolerable state 
of preservation. In a painting in the furthest room on the left of 
the atrium Theseus is seen departing in his ship; Ariadne, roused 

from sleep, gazes on him with despair, while a little weeping 

\ 

Cupid stands by her side. In the same apartment are two other 
well-preserved pictures, the subjects of which it is not easy to ex¬ 
plain. In one is a female displaying to a man two little figures 
in a nest, representing apparently the birth of the Dioscuri. The 
other is sometimes called the Rape of Helen. There are also 
several medallion heads around. 

In the small street which runs parallel with the eastern side 
of the Forum, called the Vico di Eumachia, is a house named 
the Casa nuova della Caccia , to distinguish it from one of the 
same name previously discovered. As in the former instance, its 
appellation is derived from a large painting on the wall of the 
peristyle, of bears, lions, and other animals. On the right-hand 
wall of the tablinum is a picture of Bacchus discovering Ariadne. 
A satyr lifts her vest, while Silenus and other figures look on in 
admiration. The painting on the left-hand wall is destroyed. 
On entering the peristyle a door on the right leads down some 


HUMAN BODIES PRESERVED. 


49 


steps into a garden, on one side of which is a small altar before a 
wall, on which is a painting of shrubs. 

Proceeding from this street into the Vico Storto, which 
forms a continuation of it on the north, we find on the right a 
recently excavated house, which, from several slabs of variously 
colored marbles found in it, has been called the House of the 
Dealer in Marbles. Under a large court in the interior, sur¬ 
rounded with Doric columns, are some subterranean apartments, 
in one of which was discovered a well more than eighty feet deep 
and still supplied with fresh water ; almost the only instance of 
the kind at Pompeii. The beautiful statuette of Silenus, already 
described, was found in this house. Here also was made the rare 
discovery of the skeletons of two horses, with the remains of a 
biga . 

This description might be extended, but it would be tedious 
to repeat details of smaller and less interesting houses, the fea¬ 
tures of which present in general much uniformity; and we shall 
therefore conclude this account of the more recent discoveries 
with a notice of a group of bodies found in this neighborhood, the 
forms of which have been preserved to us through the ingenuity 
of Signor Fiorelli. 

It has already been remarked that the showers of lapillo , or 
pumice stone, by which Pompeii was overwhelmed and buried, 
were followed by streams of a thick, tenacious mud, which flow¬ 
ing over the deposit of lapillo , and filling up all the crannies and 
interstices into which that substance had not been able to pene¬ 
trate, completed the destruction of the city. The objects over 
which this mud flowed were enveloped in it as in a plaster mould, 
and where these objects happened to be human bodies, their 
decay left a cavity in which their fo/ms were as accurately pre¬ 
served and rendered as in the mould prepared for the casting of 
a bronze statue. Such cavities had often been observed. In 
some of them remnants of charred wood, accompanied with 

4 


5 ° 


DISCOVERED BODIES. 


bronze or other ornaments, showed that the object inclosed had 
been a piece of furniture; while in others, the remains of bones 
and of articles of apparel evinced but too plainly that the hollow 
had been the living grave which had swallowed up some unfor¬ 
tunate human being. In a happy moment the idea occurred to 
Signor Fiorelli of filling up these cavities with liquid plaster, and 
thus obtaining a cast of the objects which had been inclosed in 
them. The experiment was first made in a small street leading 
from the Via del Balcone Pensile towards the Forum. The 
bodies here found were on the lapillo at a height of about fifteen 
feet from the level of the ground. 

“ Among: the first casts thus obtained were those of four 
human beings. They are now preserved in a room at Pompeii, 
and more ghastly and painful, yet deeply interesting and touch¬ 
ing objects, it is difficult to conceive. We have death itself 
moulded and cast—the very last struggle and final agony brought 
before us. They tell their story with a horrible dramatic truth 
that no sculptor could ever reach. They would have furnished 
a thrilling episode to the accomplished author of the 4 Last Days 
of Pompeii.’ 

44 These four persons had perished in a street. They had 
remained within the shelter of their homes until the thick black 
mud began to creep through every cranny and chink. Driven 
from their retreat they began to flee when it was too late. The 
streets were already buried deep in the loose pumice stones which 
had been falling for many hours in unremitting showers, and 
which reached almost to the windows of the first floor. These 
victims of the eruption were not found together, and they do not 
appear to have belonged to the same family or household. The 
most interesting of the casts is that of two women, probably 
mother and daughter, lying feet to feet.- They appear from their 
garb to have been people of poor condition. The elder seems to 
lie tranquilly on her side. Overcome by the noxious gases, she 



DISCOVERED BODIES 


5 1 


probably fell and died without a struggle. Her limbs are ex* 


w 

P-H 

a 

o 

Ci 

< 


I* 

Q 

O 

» 

Q 

« 

S 

o 

o 

OD 

M 

Q 


tended, and her left arm drops loosely. On one finger is still 
seen her coarse iron ring. Her child was a girl ot filteen; she 












































































































































































































































































































































































5 2 


DISCOVERED BODIES. 


seems, poor thing, to have struggled hard for life. Her legs are 
drawn up convulsively; her little hands are clenched in agony. 
In one she holds her veil, or a part of her dress, with which she 
had covered her head, burying her face in her arm, to shield her¬ 
self from the falling ashes and from the foul sulphurous smoke. 
The form of her head is perfectly preserved. The texture of her 
coarse linen garments may be traced, and even the fashion of her 
dress, with its long sleeves reaching to her wrists; here and there 
it is torn, and the smooth young skin appears in the plaster like 
polished marble. On her tiny feet may still be seen her em¬ 
broidered sandals. 

u At some distance from this group lay a third woman. She 
appears to have been about twenty-five years of age, and to have 
belonged to a better class than the other two. On one of her 
fingers were two silver rings, and her garments were of a finer 
texture. Her linen head-dress, falling over her shoulders like 
that of a matron in a Roman statue, can still be distinguished. 
She had fallen on her side, overcome by the heat and gases, but 
a terrible struggle seems to have preceded her last agony. One 
arm is raised in despair; the hands are clenched convulsively; 
her garments are gathered up on one side, leaving exposed a 
limb of beautiful shape. So perfect a mould of it has been 
formed by the soft and yielding mud, that the cast would seem to 
be taken from an exquisite work of Greek art. She had fled 
with her little treasure, which lay scattered around her—two 
silver cups, a few jewels, and some dozen silver coins; nor had 
she, like a good housewife, forgotten her keys, after having prob¬ 
ably locked up her stores before seeking to escape. They were 
foupd by her side. 

u The fourth cast is that of a man of the people, perhaps a 
common soldier. As may be seen in the cut, he is of almost col¬ 
ossal size; he lies on his left arm extended by his side, and his 
head rests on his right hand, and his legs drawn up as if, finding 



DISCOVERED BODIES. 


53 


escape impossible, he had laid himself down to meet death like a 
brave man. His dress consists of a short coat or jerkin and 
tight-fitting breeches of some coarse stuff, perhaps leather. On 
one finger is seen his iron ring. His features are strongly marked 
the mouth open, as in death. Some of the teeth still remain, and 
even part of the moustache adheres to the plaster. 

u The importance of Signor Fiorelli’s discovery may be un¬ 
derstood from the results we have described. It may furnish us 
with many curious particulars as to the dress and domestic habits 
of the Romans, and with many an interesting episode of the last 
day of Pompeii. Had it been made at an earlier period we might 
perhaps have possessed the perfect cast of the Diomedes, as they 
clung together in their last struggle, and of other victims whose 
remains are now mingled together in the bone-house.” 






















JioUgE OF pIOjVlEDE^. 

This house, the most interesting, and by far the most ex¬ 
tensive of the private buildings yet discovered, is the Suburban 
Villa, as it is called, from its position a little way without the 
gates, in the Street of the Tombs, which led to, or formed part 
of, the suburb called Augustus Felix. It is worthy of remark 
that the plan of this edifice is in close accord with the descriptions 
of country houses given us by Vitruvius and others—a circum¬ 
stance which tends strongly to confirm the belief already ex¬ 
pressed, that the houses of the city are built upon the Roman 
system of arrangement, although the Greek taste may predomi¬ 
nate in their decoration. We will commence by extracting the 
most important passages in Pliny the Younger’s description of his 
Laurentine villa, that the reader may have some general notion 
of the subject, some standard with which to compare that which 
we are about to describe. 

u My villa is large enough for convenience, though not splen¬ 
did. The first apartment which presents itself is a plain, yet not 
mean, atrium; then comes a portico, in shape like the letter O, 
which surrounds a small, but pleasant area. This is an excellent 
retreat in bad weather, being sheltered by glazed windows, and 
still more effectually by an overhanging roof. Opposite the cen¬ 
tre of this portico is a pleasant cavaedium, after which comes a 
handsome triclinium, which projects upon the beach, so that when 
the southwest wind urges the sea, the last broken waves just dash 

54 












HOUSE OF DIOMEDES. 


ss 


against its walls. On every side of this room are folding doors, 
or windows equally large, so that from the three sides there is a 
view, as it were, of three seas at once, while backwards the eye 
wanders through the apartments already described, the cavsedium, 
portico, and atrium, to woods and distant mountains. To the 
left are several apartments, including a bed-chamber, and room 
fitted up as a library, which jets out in an elliptic form, and, by 
its several windows, admits the sun during its whole course. 
These apartments I make my winter abode. The rest of this side 
of the house is allotted to my slaves and freedmen, yet it is for 
the most part neat enough to receive my friends. To the right 
of the triclinium is a very elegant chamber, and another, which 
you may call either a very large chamber ( cubiculmn ), or mod¬ 
erate-sized eating-room ( coenatio ), which commands a full pros¬ 
pect both of the sun and sea. Passing hence, through three or 
four other chambers, you enter the cellci frigidaria of the baths, 
in which there are two basins projecting from opposite walls, 
abundantly large enough to swim in, if you feel inclined to do so 
in the first instance. Then come the anointing-room, the hypo- 
caust, or furnace, and two small rooms; next the warm bath, 
which commands an admirable view of the sea. Not far off is 
the sj)hoeristerium , a room devoted to in-door exercises and 
games, exposed to the hottest sun of the declining day. Beside 
it is a triclinium, where the noise of the sea is never heard but in 
a storm, and then faintly, looking out upon the garden and the 
gestatio , or place for taking the air in a carriage or litter, which 
encompasses it. The gestatio is hedged with box, and with rose¬ 
mary where the box is wanting; for box grows well where it is 
sheltered by buildings, but withers when exposed in an open sit¬ 
uation to the wind, and especially within reach of spray from the 
sea. To the inner circle of the gestatio is joined a shady walk 
of vines, soft and tender even to the naked feet. The garden is 
full of mulberries and figs, the soil being especially suited to the 


56 


LOCATION OF THE VILLA. 


former. Within the circuit of the gestatio there is also a crypto¬ 
portico, for extent comparable to public buildings, having win¬ 
dows on one side looking to the sea, on the other to the garden. 
In front of it is a xystus, fragrant with violets, where the sun’s 
heat is increased by reflection from the cryptoportico, which, at 
the same time, breaks the northeast wind. At either end of it 
is a suite of apartments, in which, in truth, I place my chief 
delight.”* Such was one of several villas described by Pliny. 
The directions given by Vitruvius for building country houses 
are very short. “ The same principles,” he says, “are to be 
observed in country houses as in town houses, except that in the 
latter the atrium lies next to the door, but in pseudo-urban houses 
the peristyles come first, then atria surrounded by paved por¬ 
ticoes, looking upon courts for gymnastic exercises and walking ”' 
(paloestras et ambulationes ).f It will appear that the distribu¬ 
tion of the Suburban Villa was entirely in accordance with these 
rules. 

The house is built upon the side of the hill, in such a manner 
that the ground falls away, not only in the line of the street, 
across the breadth of the house, but also from the front to the 
back, so that the doorway itself being elevated from five to six 
feet above the roadway, there is room at the back of the house 
for an extensive and magnificent suite of rooms between the level 
of the peristyle and the surface of the earth. These two levels 
are represented on the same plan, being distinguished by a dif¬ 
ference in the shading. The darker parts show the walls of the 
upper floor, the lighter ones indicate the distribution of the lower. 
A further distinction is made in the references, which are by fig¬ 
ures to the upper floor, and by letters to the lower. There are 
besides subterraneous vaults and galleries not expressed in the 
plan. 

* PHn. Ep. lib. ii. 17. We have very much shortened the original, leaving out the 
description of, at least, one upper floor, and other particulars which did not appear 
necessary to the illustration of our subject. 

f Vitruvius, vi. 8. 


GROUND PLAN OF THE VILLA. 


57 



i. Broad foot pavement raised nine inches or a foot above 
.the carriage way, running along the whole length of the Street 


GROUND PLAN OF THE SUBURBAN VILLA OF DIOMEDES. 

of Tombs. 2. Inclined planes, leading up to the porch on each 
side. 3. Entrance. 4. Peristyle. This arrangement corresponds 
exactly with the directions of Vitruvius for the building of coun- 




















58 


DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN. 


try houses just quoted. The order of the peristyle is extremely 
elegant. The columns, their capitals, and entablatures, and the 
paintings on the walls are still in good preservation. The archi¬ 
tectural decorations are worked in stucco; and it is observed by 
Mazois that both here and in other instances the artist has taken 
liberties, which he would not have indulged in had he been work¬ 
ing in more valuable materials. On this ground that eminent 
architect hazards a conjecture that the plasterer had a distinct 
style of ornamenting, different from that of architects, or of the 
masons in their employ. The lower third of the columns, which 
is not fluted, is painted red. The pavement was formed of opus 
Signinum. 5. Uncovered court with an impluvium, which col¬ 
lected the rain water and fed a cistern, whence the common house¬ 
hold wants were supplied. 6. Descending staircase, which led 
to a court and building on a lower level, appropriated to the 
offices, as the kitchen, bakehouse, etc., and to the use of slaves. 
It will be recollected that the ground slopes with a rapid descent 
away from the city gate. This lower story, therefore, was not 
under ground, though near eight feet below the level of the peri¬ 
style. It communicates with the road by a back door. From 
the bottom of the staii there runs a long corridor, A, somewhat 
indistinct in our small plan, owing to its being crossed several 
times by the lines of the upper floor, which leads down by a gen¬ 
tle slope to the portico surrounding the garden. This was the 
back stair, as we should call it, by which the servants communi¬ 
cated with that part of the house. There was another staircase, 
B, on the opposite side of the house, for the use of the family. 7. 
D001 and passage to the upper garden, marked 17, on the same 
level as the court. 8. Open hall, corresponding in position with 
a tablinum. Being thus placed between the court and the gal¬ 
lery, 28, it must have been closed with folding doors of wood, 
which perhaps were glazed. 9, 10, 11, 12. Various rooms con¬ 
taining nothing remarkable. 13. Two rooms situated in the 


DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN. 


59 


most agreeable manner at the two ends of a long gallery, 28, and 
looking out upon the upper terraces of the garden, from which 
the eye took in the whole gulf of Naples to the point of Sorrento, 
and the island of Caprese. 14. Procreton, or antechamber. 15. 
Lodge ol the cubicular slave, or attendant upon the bed-room. 

16. Bed-room, probably that of the master, or else the state- 
chamber. b. Alcove. Several rings were found here which had 
evidently belonged to a curtain to draw across the front of it. 
c. Hollow stand or counter of masonry, probably coated with 
stucco or marble, which served for a toilet-table. Several vases 
were found there, which must have contained perfumes or cos¬ 
metic oils. The form of this bed-room is very remarkable, and 
will not fail to strike the reader from its exact correspondence 
with the elliptic chamber or library described by Pliny in his 
Laurentine villa. The windows in the semi-circular end are so 
placed that they receive the rising, noontide, and setting sun. 
Bull’s eyes, placed above the windows, permitted them to be 
altogether closed without darkening the room entirely. These 
windows opened on a garden, where, in Mazois’ time, the care of 
the guardian had planted roses, which almost beguiled him into 
the belief that he had found the genuine produce of a Pompeian 
garden. This must have been a delightful room, from its ample 
size, elegance of ornament, and the quiet cheerful retirement of 
its situation. 

17. Upper garden upon the level of the court. 

18. Entrance to the baths, which, though originally rare in 
private houses, had become so common, long before the destruc¬ 
tion of Pompeii, that few wealthy persons were without them. 
The word balneum was peculiarly applied to domestic, thermce 
to public baths. This specimen, which fortunately was almost 
perfect, small as it is, suffices to give an idea of the arrangement 
of private baths among the Romans. 19. Portico upon two sides 
of a small triangular court. There is as much skill in the dispo- 


6o 


DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN. 


sition, as taste in the decoration, of this court, which presents a 
symmetrical plan, notwithstanding the irregular form ol the space 
allotted to it. Its situation is conformable to the advice of Vitru¬ 
vius; and as it could not front the west, it has been placed to the 
south. The columns of the portico are octagonal. At the ex¬ 
tremity of the gallery, on the left of the entrance, there is a small 
furnace where was prepared some warm beverage or restorative 
for the use of the bathers, who were accustomed to take wine or 
cordials before they went away. Here a gridiron and two frying 
pans were found, still blackened with smoke. In the centre of 
the base, or third side of the court, is placed a bath, 20, about 
six feet square, lined with stucco, the edge of which is faced with 
marble. It was covered with a roof, the mark of which is still 
visible on the walls, supported by two pillars placed on the pro¬ 
jecting angles. The holes in the walls to admit the three princi¬ 
pal beams are so contrived that each side is lined with a single 
brick. Under this covering the whole wall was painted to repre¬ 
sent water, with fish and other aquatic animals swimming about. 
The water was blue, and rather deep in color: the fish were 
represented in the most vivid and varied tints. Some years ago 
this painting recovered, on being wetted, the original freshness 
and brilliancy of its coloring; but exposure to the weather has 
done its work, and now scarce a trace of it remains. In the mid¬ 
dle of it there is a circular broken space to which a mask was 
formerly attached, through which a stream gushed into the basin 
below. Two or three steps led down to this baptisterimn , where 
the cold bath was taken in the open air. This court and portico 
were paved in mosaic. 21. Apodyterium. 22. Frigidarium. 
23. Tepidarium. These two rooms, in neither of which was 
there a bathing vessel, show that frequently rooms thus named 
were not intended lor bathing, but simply to preserve two inter¬ 
mediate gradations of temperature, between the burning heat of 
the caldarium or laconicum and the open air. In fact, no trace 


THE CALDARIUM. 


61 

ol any contrivance lor the introduction or reception of water has 
been found in No. 22. It was simply a cold chamber, cella frigi- 
daria. Nor was the little chamber, 23, large enough to receive 
conveniently a bathing vessel ; but seats of wood were found 
there for the convenience of those who had quitted the bath, and 
who came there to undergo the discipline of the strigil, and a 
minute process of purification and anointing. This room is not 
above twelve feet by six: the bath, therefore, could not have been 
calculated for the reception of more than one, or, at most, of two 
persons at once. Here the great question relative to the use of 
glass windows by the ancients was finally settled. This apart¬ 
ment was lighted by a window closed by a movable frame of 
wood, which, though converted into charcoal, still held, when it 
was found, four panes of glass about six inches square. A more 
elaborate and curious glass window was found at a later period 
in the public baths. 24. Caldarium. It might, however, be em¬ 
ployed at pleasure as a tepid or cold bath, when the weather was 
too cold for bathing in the open air. The suspensura caldari- 
orum, as Vitruvius calls the hollow walls and floors raised upon 
pillars, are in remarkably good preservation. By means of these 
the whole apartment was entirely enveloped in flame, and might 
be easily raised to a most stifling temperature. 

We will, however, add that Vitruvius directs a bed of clay 
mixed with hair to be laid between the pillars and the pavement; 
and some tradition of this custom may be imagined to subsist, for 
the potters of the country, in some cases, work up wool with their 
clay, a practice unknown elsewhere, as we believe, in the art of 
pottery. The burning vapor passed out above the ceiling, gain¬ 
ing no entrance into the apartment. Air and light were admit¬ 
ted by two windows, one higher than the other. In one of these 
Mazois found a fragment of glass. The bathing-vessel, g, lined 
with stucco, and coated on the outside with marble, was fed by 
two cocks, which must have been very small, to judge from the 


6 2 


DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN. 


t 


space which they occupied. Hence, hot and cold water were 
supplied at pleasure; and it \\%s only to till the vessel with boil¬ 
ing water, and the whole apartment would be converted into one 
great vapor bath. 

As it would have been difficult or impossible to have kept 
alive a lamp or torch in so dense a steam, there is near the door 
a circular hole, closed formerly by a glass, which served to admit 
the light of a lamp placed in the adjoining chamber. The hypo- 
caust, or furnace and apparatus, 25, for heating the water, are so 
placed that they can not be seen from the triangular court. They 
are small, but correspond with the small quantity of boiling water 
which they were required to furnish, f. Stone table, g. Cis¬ 
tern. h. Mouth of hypocaust. i. A furnace, probably for boil¬ 
ing water when merely a tepid bath was required, without heating 
the suspensura caldariorum. By the side of the hypocaust were 
placed the vases for hot and cold water, as described in the chap¬ 
ter on Baths; their pedestals were observable between the mouth 
of the furnace and the letter k. /. Wooden staircase, no longer 
in existence, which led to the apartments above. 26. Reservoir. 

Such was the distribution of this bath. Some paintings and 
mosaics, which are ordinary enough, formed its only decorations; 
yet, from the little that remains, we can discover that the good 
taste which reigned everywhere, and the freshness of the colors, 
must have rendered the effect of the whole most agreeable. 

2 7 * This chamber seems to have been used as a wardrobe, 
where the numerous garments of the opulent masters of this dwell¬ 
ing were kept under presses, to give them a lustre. This con¬ 
jecture is founded upon the remains of calcined stuffs, and the 
fragments of wardrobes and carbonized plank found in the course 
of excavation. 

28. Great gallery, lighted by windows which looked upon 
the two terraces, 34, separated by the large hall, 33. This gal- 


GALLERIES AND HALLS. 63 

lery furnished an agreeable promenade, when the weather did not 
permit the enjoyment of the external porticoes or terraces. 

29, 29. These two small apartments, which were open to the 
gallery, and probably were closed by glass, may very well have 
been, one a library, the other a reading-room, since the place in 
which books were kept was not usually the place in which they 
were read; being small and confined, suitable to the compara¬ 
tively small number of volumes which an ancient library generally 
contained, and also to the limited space within which a consider¬ 
able number of rolls of papyrus might be placed. 

A bust, painted on the wall of one of them, confirms this 
supposition, for it is known that the ancients were fond of keep¬ 
ing the portraits of eminent men before their eyes, and especially 
of placing those of literary men in their libraries. 

30. The form of this hall is suitable to a triclinium, and its 
situation, protected from the immediate action of the sun’s rays, 
would seem to mark it as a summer triclinium. Still the guests 
enjoyed the view of the country and of the sea, by means of a 
door opening upon the terrace. In front of the little chamber, 31, 
is a square opening for the staircase, which descends to the point 
B upon the floor below. It is to be remarked, that at the en¬ 
trance of each division of the building there is a lodge for a slave. 
No doubt each suite of rooms had its peculiar keeper. The 
chamber, 10, seems to have been reserved for the keeper of the 
peristyle;, the apartment, 15, belonged to the slave of the bed¬ 
chamber, who watched the apartment of his master; a recess 
under the staircase, 35, was, without doubt, the place of the 
atriensis, or attendant on the atrium, when the hall, 8, was 
open, to give admission to the interior of the house; and when 
this hall was closed, he attended in the chamber, 12, which com¬ 
manded the entrance through the passage, or fauces. 

Lastly, the small lodge, 31, is so placed as to keep watch 
over all communication between the upper floor, where is the 


6 \ 


DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN. 


peristyle, and the lower floor, in which the apartments of the 
family seem to have been chiefly situated. 

32. Apartment, entirely ruined, to which it is difficult to 
assign a name. 

33. Large cyzicene cecus, about thirty-six feet by twenty- 
six. All the windows of this apartment opened almost to the 
level of the floor, and gave a view of the garden, the terraces and 
trellises which ornamented them, as well as of the vast and beau¬ 
tiful prospect towards the sea and Vesuvius. 

34. Large terraces, perhaps formerly covered with trellises, 
which communicate with the terraces over the gallery by which 
the garden is surrounded. 

35. Staircase leading to the upper floor, on which may have 
been the gynseceum, or suite of apartments belonging to the 
women. So retired a situation, however, did not always suit the 
taste of the Roman ladies. 

Cornelius Nepos says that u they occupy for the most part 
the first floor in the front of the house.” Mazois was long im- 
pressed with the idea that there must have been an upper story 
here, but for a long time he could not And the staircase. 

At last he discovered in this place marks in the plaster, 
which left no doubt in his mind but that it had existed here, 
though being of wood it disappeared with the other woodwork. 
He recognized the inclination and the height of the steps, and 
found that they were high and narrow, like those stone stairs 
which exist still in the same dwelling. 

36. A sort of vestibule at the entrance of the building, appro¬ 
priated to the offices. This lower court probably contained the 
kitchen. 

37. Bake-house, apartments of the inferior slaves, stables, 
and other accessories. These are separated from the main build¬ 
ing by means of a mesaulon, or small internal court, to diminish 
the danger in case of a fire happening in the kitchen or bake- 


PORTICOES AND TERRACES. 


65 


house. I here were two ways of communication from the level of 
the street to the level of the garden; on one side by the corridor, 
A, A, principally reserved for the servants, on the other by the 
staircase, B. C, C, C. Portico round the garden. 

The side beneath the house and that at the right of the plan 
are perfectly preserved, but it has been found necessary to sup¬ 
port the terrace on this side by inserting a modern pillar between 
each of the old ones, and to build two massive piers beneath the 
terrace on which the great cyzicene hall is situated. This por¬ 
tico was elegantly ornamented. If we may judge of the whole 
from a part, which is given by Mazois, the interior entablature 
was ornamented with light mouldings and running patterns, while 
there was a little picture over each pillar. That in his plate 
represents a swan flying away with a serpent. The pillars were 
square, the lower part painted with flowers springing from trel¬ 
lises, apparently of very delicate execution. The same style of 
painting occurs in the court of the baths. The ceiling of the por¬ 
tico beneath the terrace is, in respect of its construction, one of 
the most curious specimens of ancient building which have 
reached our time. It is a plane surface of masonry, hung in the 
air, supported neither on the principle of the arch, nor by iron 
cramps, but owing its existence entirely to the adherence of the 
mortar by which it is cemented. It is divided into compartments 
by false beams (caissons) of the same construction. The whole 
is of remarkable solidity. D. Open hall at the end of the west¬ 
ern portico. E. Fountain, supplied perhaps by the water of the 
cistern. There was formerly a well upon the terrace, 34, by 
which water might be drawn from the reservoir of this fountain, 
but it was effaced when the area of the terrace was restored. 
F, F, F. Different chambers, halls, triclinium, in which the re¬ 
mains of a carpet were found on the floor, and other rooms, to 
which it is difficult to assign any particular destination. They 
are all decorated in the most elegant and refined manner, but their 

5 


66 


DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN. 


paintings are hastening to decay with a rapidity which is grievous 
to behold. Fortunately, the Academy of Naples has published a 
volume of details, in which the greater part of the frescos of this 
villa are engraved. G. Passage, leading by the staircase B to 
the upper floor, and by the staircase H to the subterranean gal¬ 
leries. There is a similar staircase, H, on the other side of the 
portico. 

These galleries form a crypt beneath the portico, lighted and 
aired by loop-holes on the level of the ground. Amphorae, placed 
in sand against the wall, are still to be seen there, and for this 
reason it has been conjectured that the crypt served the purposes 
of a cellar; but even this crypt was coarsely painted. I. Mesau- 
lon, or court, which separates the offices from the house. K. 
Small room at the extremity of the garden. L. An oratory; 
the niche served to receive a little statue. M. Xystus, or gar¬ 
den. N. Piscina, with a jet d'eau. O. Enclosure covered with 
a trellis. P. Door to the country and towards the sea. Q. This 
enclosure, about fifteen feet wide, appears to have been covered 
with a trellis, and must have been much frequented, since there 
is a noble flight of steps leading down to it from the upper gar¬ 
den. It fronted the south, and must have been a delightful win¬ 
ter promenade. 

The arch to the left is the end of the open hall, D, above the 
portico; on each side are the terraces, 34, 34, and in the centre 
are the remains of the cyzicene hall. Beneath on the level of the 
portico, are the several rooms marked F, probably the chief sum¬ 
mer abode of the family, being well adapted to that purpose by 
their refreshing coolness. Their ceilings for the most part are 
semicircular vaults, richly painted, and the more valuable because 
few ceilings have been found in existence. We should attempt 
in vain to describe the complicated subjects, the intricate and va¬ 
ried patterns with which the fertile fancy of the arabesque painter 
has clothed the walls and ceilings, without the aid of drawings, 


TOMB AND FAMILY SEPULCHRE. 


6 7 


which we are unable to give; and, indeed, colored plates would 
be requisite to convey an adequate notion of their effect. In the 
splendid work which Mr. Donaldson has published upon Pompeii, 
several subjects taken from these rooms will be found, some of 
them colored, together with eight mosaics, some of very compli¬ 
cated, all of elegant design; and to this and similar works we 
must refer the further gratification of the reader’s curiosity. 

Such was this mansion, in which no doubt the owner took 
pride and pleasure, to judge from the expense lavished with un¬ 
sparing hand on its decoration; and if he could be supposed to 
have any cognizance of what is now passing on earth, his vanity 
might find some consolation for having been prematurely de¬ 
prived of it, in the posthumous celebrity which it has obtained. 
But his taste and wealth have done nothing to perpetuate his 
name, for not a trace remains that can indicate to what person or 
to what family it belonged. It is indeed usually called the Villa 
of Marcus Arius Diomedes, on the strength of a tomb discovered 
about the same period immediately opposite to it, bearing that 
name. No other tomb had then been discovered so near it, and 
on this coincidence of situation a conclusion was drawn that this 
must have been a family sepulchre, attached to the house, and, 
by consequence, that the house itself belonged to Diomedes. The 
conjecture at the outset rested but on a sandy foundation, which 
has since been entirely sapped by the discovery of numerous 
other tombs almost equally near. All that we know of the owner 
or his family may be comprised in one sentence, which, short as 
it is, speaks forcibly to our feelings. Their life was one of ele¬ 
gant luxury and enjoyment, in the midst of which death came on 
them by surprise, a death of singular and lingering agony. 

When Vesuvius first showed signs of the coming storm the 
air was still, as we learn from the description of Pliny, and the 
smoke of the mountain rose up straight, until the atmosphere 
would bear it no higher, and then spread on all sides into a cano- 


68 


THE VILLA DESTROYED. 


py, suggesting to him the idea of an enormous pine tree. After 
this a wind sprung up from the west, which was favorable to carry 
Pliny from Misenum to Stabiae, but prevented his return. The 
next morning probably it veered something to the north, when, 
in the younger Pliny’s words, a cloud seemed to descend upon 
the earth, to cover the sea, and hide the Isle of Capreae from his 
view. The ashes are said by Dion Cassius to have reached Egypt, 
and in fact a line drawn southeast from Vesuvius would pass very 
near Pompeii, and cut Egypt. It was probably at this moment 
that the hail of fire fell thickest at Pompeii, at daybreak on the 
second morning, and if any had thus long survived the stilling air 
and torrid earth which surrounded them, their misery probably 
was at this moment brought to a close. The villa of which we 
speak lay exactly between the city and the mountain, and must 
have felt the first, and, if there were degrees of misery, where all 
perished alike, the worst effects of this fearful visitation. Fearful 
is such a visitation in the present day, even to those who crowd to 
see an eruption of Vesuvius as they would to a picture-gallery or 
an opera; how much more terrible, accompanied by the certainty 
ol impending death, to those whom neither history nor experience 
had familiarized with the most awful phenomenon presented by na¬ 
ture. At this, or possibly an earlier moment, the love of life 
proved too strong for the social affections of the owner of the 
house. He fled, abandoning to their fate a numerous family, and 
a young and beautiful daughter, and bent his way, with his most 
precious movables, accompanied only by a single slave, to the 
sea, which he never reached alive. His daughter, two children, 
and other members ol his family and household sought protection 
in the subterranean vaults, which, by the help of the wine-jars 
already stored there, and the provisions which they brought down 
with them, they probably considered as sufficient refuge against 
an evil of which they could not guess the whole extent. It was 
a vain hope; the same fate awaited them all by different ways* 


WALL PAINTING AT POMPEII 









































































































































































































































































































































































































7 ° 


CONCLUSIVE EVIDENCE. 


The strong vaults and narrow openings to the day protected 
them, indeed, from the falling cinders; but the heat, sufficient to 
char wood, and volatilize the more subtle part of the ashes, could 
not be kept out by such means. The vital air was changed into 
a sulphurous vapor, charged with burning dust. In their despair, 
longing for the pure breath of heaven, they rushed to the door, 
already choked with scoriae and ruins, and perished in agonies on 
which the imagination does not willingly dwell. 

This the reader will probably be inclined to think might do 
very well for the conclusion of a romance, but why invent such 
sentimental stories to figure in a grave historical account? It is 
a remarkable instance, perhaps the strongest which has yet oc¬ 
curred, of the peculiar interest which the discoveries at Pompeii 
possess, as introducing us to the homes, nay, to the very persons 
of a long-forgotten age, that every circumstance of this tale can 
be verified by evidence little less than conclusive. Beside the 
garden gate, marked P, two skeletons were found; one presumed 
to be the master, had in his hand the key of that gate, and near 
him were about a hundred gold and silver coins ; the other, 
stretched beside some silver vases, was probably a slave charged 
with the transport of them. When the vaults beneath the room, 
D, were discovered, at the foot of the staircase, H, the skeletons 
of eighteen adult persons, a boy and an infant were found hud¬ 
dled up together, unmoved during seventeen centuries since they 
sank in death. They were covered by several feet of ashes of 
extreme fineness, evidently slowly borne in through the vent¬ 
holes, and afterwards consolidated by damp. The substance 
thus formed resembles the sand used by metal founders for cast¬ 
ings, but is yet more delicate, and took perfect impressions of 
everything on which it lay. Unfortunately this property was not 
observed until almost too late, and little was preserved except the 
neck and breast ot a girl, which are said to display extraordinary 
beauty ol form. So exact is the impression, that the very texture 


JEWELS AND ORNAMENTS. 


7 1 


of the dress in which she was clothed is apparent, which by its 
extraordinary fineness evidently shows that she had not been a 
slave, and may be taken for the tine gauze which Seneca calls 
woven wind. On other fragments the impression of jewels worn 
on the neck and arms is distinct, and marks that several mem¬ 
bers of the family here perished. The jewels themselves were 
found beside them, comprising, in gold, two necklaces, one set 
with blue stones, and four rings, containing engraved gems. Two 
of the skeletons belonged to children, and some of their blonde 
hair was still existent; most of them are said to have been recog¬ 
nized as female. Each sex probably acted in conformity to its 
character, the men trusting to their own strength to escape, the 
women waiting with patience the issue of a danger from which 
their own exertions could not save them. 

In the same vault bronze candelabra and other articles, 
jewels and coins were found. Amphorae were also found ranged 
against the wall, in some of which the contents, dried and hard¬ 
ened by time, were still preserved. Archaeologists, it is said, 
pretend to recognize in this substance the flavor of the rich strong 
wine for which the neighborhood of Vesuvius is celebrated. 

Besides the interior garden within the portico, there must 
have been another garden extending along the southern side of 
the house. The passage from the peristyle, 7, the position of the 
elliptic chamber, 16, and the trellis work, Q, with its spacious 
steps, leave no doubt on this subject. It has been stated in a 
German periodical that traces of the plowshare have been distin¬ 
guished in the fields adjoining this villa. This is the only authoi- 
itv we have for supposing that the process ol excavation has 
been extended at all beyond the house itself. The garden to the 
south is still, to the best of our information, uncleared, nor is it 
likely that it contains objects of sufficient interest to recompense 
the labor which would be consumed in laying it open. Our 
limited knowledge of ancient horticulture is not therefore likely 


72 


JEWELS AND ORNAMENTS 


to be increased by means of Pompeii; for such small flower-pots 
as are attached to houses within the town can not contain any¬ 
thing worth notice beyond a fountain or a summer ti iclinium. 


HOUSEHOLD UTENSILS. 

We will do our best, however, to complete the reader’s 
notion of an Italian villa, and show what might have been, since 
we can not show what has been here, by borrowing Pliny’s ac¬ 
count of the garden attached to his Tuscan villa, the only account 
of a Roman garden which has come down to us. 

u In front of the house lies a spacious hippodrome, entirely 


























































































































































73 


pliny’s account of a roman garden. 

open in the middle, by which means the eye, upon your first en¬ 
trance, takes in its whole extent at one view. It i$ encompassed 
on every side with plane trees covered with ivy, so that while 
their heads flourish with their own green, their bodies enjoy a 
borrowed verdure; and thus the ivy twining round the trunk and 
branches, spreads from tree to tree and connects them together. 
Between each plane tree are placed box trees, and behind these, 
bay trees, which blend their shade with that of the planes. This 
plantation, forming a straight boundary on both sides of the hip¬ 
podrome, bends at the further end into a semi-circle, which, being 
set round and sheltered with cypresses, casts a deeper and more 
gloomy shade; while the inward circular walks (for there are 
several) enjoying an open exposure, are full of roses, and correct 
the coolness of the shade by the warmth of the sun. 

“ Having passed through these several winding alleys, you 
enter a straight walk, which breaks out into a variety of others, 
divided by box edges. In one place you have a little meadow; 
in another the box is cut into a thousand different forms, some¬ 
times into letters; here expressing the name of the master, there 
that of the artificer; while here and there little obelisks rise, in¬ 
termixed with fruit trees; when on a sudden, in the midst of this 
elegant regularity, you are surprised with an imitation of the 
neodierent beauties of rural nature, in the centre of which lies a 
spot surrounded with a knot of dwarf plane trees. Beyond this 
is a walk, interspersed with the smooth and twining acanthus, 
where the trees are also cut into a variety of names and shapes. 
At the upper end is an alcove of white marble, shaded with vines, 
supported by four small columns of Carystian marble. Here is a 
triclinium, out of which the water, gushing through several little 
pipes, as if it were pressed out by the weight of the persons who 
repose upon it, falls into a stone cistern underneath, from whence 
it is received into a fine polished marble basin, so artfully con¬ 
trived that it is always full without ever overflowing. When I 


74 


pliny’s account of a roman garden. 


sup here, this basin serves for a table, the larger sort of dishes 
being placed round the margin, while the smaller swim about in 
the form of little vessels and water-fowl. 

u Corresponding to this is a fountain, which is incessantly 
emptying and tilling; for the water, which it throws up to a great 
height, falling back again into it, is returned as fast as it is re¬ 
ceived, by means of two openings. 

“ Fronting the alcove stands a summer-house of exquisite 
marble, whose doors project and open into a green enclosure, 
while from its upper and lower windows also the eye is pre¬ 
sented with a variety of different verdures. Next to this is a 
little private closet, which, though it seems distinct, may be laid 
into the same room, furnished with a couch; and notwithstand¬ 
ing it has windows on every side, yet it enjoys a very agreeable 
gloominess, by means of a spreading vine, which climbs to the 
top and entirely overshades it. Here you may lie and fancy 
yourself in a wood, with this difference only, that you are not ex¬ 
posed to the weather. In this place a fountain also rises, and in¬ 
stantly disappears. In different quarters are disposed several 
marble seats, which serve, as well as the summer-house, as so 
many reliefs after one is tired of walking. Near each seat is a little 
fountain, and throughout the whole hippodrome several small 
rills run murmuring along, wheresoever the hand of art thought 
proper to conduct them, watering here and there different spots 
ol verdure, and in their progress refreshing the whole.’ 1 


























£tORE£ AND Jy\TINQ ]4oU5Eg. 

To notice all the houses excavated at Pompeii, would be 
wearisome in the extreme. We intend therefore merely to select 
some of the most important, to be described at length, the 
arrangement of which may serve, with variations according to 
place and circumstances, as a type of the whole. Some, which 
offer no particularity in their construction, are remarkable for the 
beauty of their paintings or other decorations; and, indeed, it is 
from the paintings on the walls that many of the houses have de¬ 
rived their names. Some again are designated from mosaics or 
inscriptions on the threshold, from the trade or profession evi¬ 
dently exercised by the proprietors, or from some accident, as 
the presence of distinguished persons at their excavation—as, for 
instance, those called the House of the Emperor Joseph II., del 
Gran Duca, degli Scienziati, etc. As it is the object of this work 
to convey a general notion of the remains of Pompeii, and to ex¬ 
hibit, as far as our materials will permit, the private life of the 
first century in all its degrees, we shall begin with one or two of 
the stores. These present great similarity in their arrangements, 
and indicate that the tribe of storekeepers was very inferior in 
wealth and comfort to that of our own time and country. They 
are for the most part very small, and sometimes without any in¬ 
terior apartment on the ground floor. The upper floor must 

75 













7 6 


STORES AND EATING HOUSES. 


have comprised one or two sleeping-rooms; but there is, as we 
believe, only one house in which the upper Boor is in existence. 

It is rare at Pompeii to see a whole house set apart for pur¬ 
poses of trade, a part being occupied by the store itself, the rest 
furnishing a comfortable dwelling for the owner. The houses of 
the richer classes, instead of presenting a handsome elevation to 
the street, were usually surrounded with stores. They furnished 
considerable revenue. 

Cicero, in a letter to Atticus, speaks of the ruinous state into 
which some of his stores had fallen, u insomuch that not only the 
men, but the mice had quitted them,” and hints at the gain which 
he hoped to derive from this seemingly untoward circumstance. 
One Julia Felix possessed nine hundred stores, as we learn from 
an inscription in Pompeii. 

At night the whole front was closed with shutters, sliding in 
grooves cut in the lintel and basement wall before the counter, 
and by the door, which is thrown far back, so as to be hardly 
visible. 

There is an oven at the end of the counter furthest from 
the street, and three steps have been presumed to support dif¬ 
ferent sorts of vessels or measures for liquids. From these in¬ 
dications it is supposed to have been a cook’s shop; for the sale, 
perhaps, both of undressed and dressed provisions, as is indicated 
in the view. The oven probably served to prepare, and keep 
constantly hot, some popular dishes for the service of any chance 
customer; the jars might hold oil, olives, or the fish-pickle 
called garum , an article oi the highest importance in a Roman 
kitchen, for the manufacture ot which Pompeii was celebrated.* 

* It was made ot the entrails of fish macerated in brine. That made from the fish 
called scomber was the best. This word is sometimes translated a herring, but the best 
authorities render it a mackerel. It was caught, according to Pliny, in the Straits of 
Gibraltar, entering from the ocean, and was used for no purpose but to make garum. 
The best was called garum sociorum, a term of which we have seen no satisfactory ex¬ 
planation, and sold for 1.000 sesterces for two congii, about $20 a gallon. An inferior 
kind, made from the anchovy (aphya), was called alec, a name also given to the dre^s 
of garum. “ No liquid, except unguents,” Pliny says, “ fetched a higher price.”—Hist 
Nat. xxxi. 43. 


COOK SHOP RESTORED. 


77 


Fixed vessels appear inconvenient for such uses on account 
of the difficulty of cleaning them out; but the practice, it is said, 
continues to this day at Rome, where the small shopkeepers keep 
their oil in similar jars, fixed in a counter of masonry. All the 
ornaments in the view are copied from Pompeii. In front of the 
store, which stands opposite the passage leading behind the small 
theatre to the Soldiers’ Quarters, are three stepping-stones, to en¬ 
able persons to cross the road without wetting their feet in bad 
weather. 

In conjunction with a street view, we give the view of an¬ 
other shop, which 
has also a counter 
containing jars for 
the reception of 
some liquid com¬ 
modity. By some 
it is called a Ther- 
mopolium, or store 
for the sale of hot- 
drinks, while others 
call it an oil store. 

In front is a foun¬ 
tain. It is situated 
at the angle of the 
street immediately 
adjoining the House of Pansa. The left-hand street leads to 
the Gate of Herculaneum; the right, skirting Pansa’s house, is 
terminated by the city walls. 

Tracks of wheels are very visible on the pavement. The inte¬ 
rior was gaily painted in blue panels and red borders, as we learn 
from the colored view in l\Ir. Donaldson s Pompeii, from which 
this is taken. The counter is faced and covered with marble. 
Numerous thermopolia have been discovered in Pompeii, many 



restaurant. {From Wall Painting.) 
















































































































































7 8 


STORES AND EATING HOUSES. 


of them identified, or supposed to be identified, by the stains left 
upon the counters by wet glasses. 

In the centre is a small altar, placed before a niche, orna¬ 
mented with the painting of some goddess holding a cornucopia. 
She is reposing on a couch, closely resembling a modern French 

bed. The mattress is 
white, striped with 
violet, and spotted 
with gold; the cushion 
is violet. The tunic 
of the go'ddess is blue, 
the bed, the table, 
and the cornucopia, 
gold. This house 
stands just by the 
gate of Herculaneum, adjoining the broad flight of steps which 
leads up to the ramparts. Bonucci supposes that it belonged to 
the officer appointed to take charge of the gate and walls. 

We may take this opportunity to describe the nature and ar¬ 
rangement of the triclinium, of which such frequent mention has 
been made. In the earlier times of Rome, men sat at table — 
the habit of reclining was introduced from Carthage after the 
Punic wars. At first these beds were clumsy in form, and cov¬ 
ered with mattresses stuffed with rushes or straw. Hair and 
wool mattresses were introduced from Gaul at a later period, and 
were soon followed by cushions stuffed with feathers. At first 
these tricliniary beds were small, low, and round, and made of 
wood; afterwards, in the time of Augustus, square and highly 
ornamented couches came into fashion. In the reign of Tiberius 
they began to be veneered with costly woods or tortoiseshell, and 
were covered with valuable embroideries, the richest of which 
came from Babylon, and cost incredible sums. 

Each couch contained three persons, and, properly, the whole 



BED AND TABLE AT POMPEII. (From Wall Painting.') 



























































POMPEIAN BILL OF FARE.. 


79 


arrangement consisted of three couches, so that the number at 
table did not exceed the number of the Muses, and each person 
had his seat according to his rank and dignity. The places 

were thus appropriated: i. The 
host. 2. His wife. 3. Guest. 4. 
Consular place, or place of honor. 
This was the most convenient sit¬ 
uation at table, because he who oc¬ 
cupied it, resting on his left arm, 
could easily with his right reach 
any part of the table without incon- 

PLAN OF A TRICLINIUM. J 1 

venience to his neighbors. It was, 
therefore, set apart for the person of highest rank. 5, 6, 7, 8, 
9. Other guests. 

The entertainment itself usually comprised three services ; 
the first consisting of fresh eggs, olives, oysters, salad, and other 
light delicacies; the second of made dishes, fish, and roast meats; 
the third of pastry, confectionery, and fruits. A remarkable 
painting, discovered at Pompeii, gives a curious idea of a com¬ 
plete feast. It represents a table set out with every requisite for 
a grand dinner. In the centre is a large dish, in which four pea¬ 
cocks are placed, one at each corner, forming a magnificent dome 
with their tails. All round are lobsters—one holding in his claws 
a blue egg, a second an oyster, a third a stuffed rat, a fourth a 
little basket full of grasshoppers. Four dishes of fish decorate 
the bottom, above which are several partridges, and hares, and 
squirrels, each holding its head between its paws. The whole is 
surrounded by something resembling a German "sausage; then 
comes a row of yolks of eggs; then a row of peaches, small 
melons, and cherries; and lastly, a row of vegetables of different 
sorts. The whole is covered with a sort of green-colored sauce. 

Another house, also of the minor class, yet superior to any 
hitherto described, is recommended to our notice by the beauty 


3 6 5 4 7 


8 


9 











8o 


STORES AND EATING HOUSES. 


of the paintings found. That the proprietor was not rich is evi¬ 
dent from its limited extent and accommodation ; yet he had 
some small property, as we may infer from the shop communi¬ 
cating with the house, in which were sold such articles of agri¬ 
cultural produce as were not required for the use of the family. 

This house was formerly decorated with paintings taken 
from the Odyssey, and from the elegant fictions of Grecian my¬ 
thology. When Mazois visited it in 1812, two paintings in the 

A 

atrium were still in existence, though in a very perishing state. 
Shortly after he had copied them they fell, owing to the plaster 
detaching itself from the wall. One of them is taken from the 
Odyssey, and represents Ulysses and Circe, at the moment when 
the hero, having drunk the charmed cup with impunity, by virtue 
of the antidote given him by Mercury, draws his sword and 
advances to avenge his companions.* The goddess, terrified,, 
makes her submission at once, as described by Homer, while her 
two attendants fly in alarm; yet one of them, with a natural 
curiosity, can not resist the temptation to look back, and observe 
the termination of so unexpected a scene. Circe uses the very 
gesture of supplication so constantly described by Homer and the 
tragedians, as she sinks on her knees, extending one hand to 
clasp the knees of Ulysses, with the other endeavoring to touch 
his beard.f This picture is remarkable, as teaching us the origin 
of that ugly and unmeaning glory with which the heads of saints 
are often surrounded. The Italians borrowed it from the Greek 
artists of the lower empire, in whose paintings it generally has. 
the appearance, as we believe, of a solid plate of gold. The 

* “ Hence, seek the sty—there wallow with tliy friends.” 

She spake. I drawing from beside my thigh 
My faulchion keen, with death-denouncing looks 
Rushed on her; she with a shrill scream of fear 
Ran under my raised arm, seized fast my knees, 

And in winged accents plaintive thus began: 

“ Say, who art thou,” etc.—Cowper’s Odyss. x. 320. 

f She sat before him, clasped with her left hand 
His knees; her right beneath his chin she placed, 

And thus the king, Saturnian Jove, implored.—I!, i. 500. 


CIRCE, DAUGHTER OF THE SUN. 


81 


glory round Circe’s head has the same character, the outer limb 
or circle being strongly defined, not shaded off and. divining into 
rays, as we usually see it in the Italian school. This glory was 
called nimbus, or aureola, and is defined by Servius to be “ the 
luminous fluid which encircles the heads of the gods.” It be¬ 
longs with peculiar propriety to Circe, as the daughter of the sun. 
The emperors, with their usual modesty, assumed it as the mark 
of their divinity; and, under this respectable patronage, it passed, 
like many other Pagan superstitions and customs, in the use of 
the church. 

The other picture represents Achilles at Scyros, where The¬ 
tis had hidden him among the daughters of Lycomedes, to pre¬ 
vent his engaging in the Trojan war. Ulysses discovered him 
by bringing for sale arms mixed with female trinkets, in the char¬ 
acter of a merchant. The story is well known. The painting 
represents the moment when the young hero is seizing the arms. 
Deidamia seems not to know what to make of the matter, and 
tries to hold him back, while Ulysses is seen behind with his fin¬ 
ger on his lips, closely observing all that passes. 



6 


HEAD OP CIRCE. 





HoUgEf Of pAffA AND ^ALLUfT. 


The two compartments marked 30 are houses of a very 
mean class, having formerly an upper story. Behind the last ot 
them is a court, which gives light to one ol the chambers ol 
Pansa’s house. On the other side of the island or block are 
three houses (32), small, but of much more respectable extent 
and accommodation, which probably were also meant to be let. 
In that nearest the garden were found the skeletons ol four wom¬ 
en, with gold ear and finger rings having engraved stones, be¬ 
sides other valuables; showing that such inquilini , or lodgers, 
were not always of the lowest class. 

The best view of this house is from the front of the door¬ 
way. It offers to the eye, successively, the doorway, the pro- 
thyrum, the atrium, with its impluvium, the Ionic peristyle, and 
the garden wall, with Vesuvius in the distance. The entrance 
is decorated with two pilasters of the Corinthian order. Besides 
the outer door, there was another at the end of the prothyrum, to 
secure the atrium against too early intrusion. The latter apart¬ 
ment was paved with marble, with a gentle inclination towards 
the impluvium. Through the tablinum the peristyle is seen, with 
two of its Ionic capitals still remaining. The columns are six¬ 
teen in number, fluted, except for about one-third of their height 
from the bottom. Tl\ey are made of a volcanic stone, and, with 
their capitals, are of good execution. But at some period subse¬ 
quent to the erection of the house, probably after the earthquake, 
A.D. 63, they have been covered with hard stucco, and large 

82 














CURIOUS RELIGIOUS PAINTING. 


33 


leaves ol the same material set under the volutes, so as to trans¬ 
form them into a sort of pseudo-Corinthian, or Composite order. 
It is not impossible that the exclusively Italian order, which we 
call Composite, may have originated in a similar caprice. Of 
the disposition of the garden, which occupied the open part of the 
peristyle, we have little to say. Probably it was planted with 
choice dowers. Slabs of marble were placed at the angles to re¬ 
ceive the drippings of the roof, which were conducted by metal 
conduits into the central basin, which is about six feet in depth, 
and was painted green. In the centre of it there stood a jet 
d’eau, as there are indications enough to prove. This apartment, 
if such it may be called, was unusually spacious, measuring about 
sixty-dve feet by dfty. The height of the columns was equal to 
the width of the colonnade, about sixteen feet. Their unduted 
part is painted yellow, the rest is coated with white stucco. The 
door is elevated two steps above the level of the tablinum. 

A curious religious painting, now almost effaced, was found 
in the kitchen, representing the worship offered to the Lares, 
under whose protection and custody the provisions and all the 
cooking utensils were placed. In the centre is a.sacrifice in honor 
of those deities, who are represented below in the usual form of 
two huge serpents brooding over an altar. There is something 
remarkable in the upper dgures. The female dgure in the centre 
holds a cornucopia, and each of the male dgures holds a small 
vase in the hand nearer to the altar, and a horn in the other. All 
the faces are quite black, and the heads of the male dgures 
are surrounded with something resembling a glory. Their 
dress in general, and especially their boots, which are just like the 
Hungarian boots now worn on the stage, appear different from 
anything which is to be met with elsewhere. Are these dgures 
meant for the Lares themselves ? On each side are represented 
different sorts of eatables. On the left a bunch of small birds, 
a string of dsh, a boar with a girth about his body, and a magnif- 


8 4 


HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 


icently curling tail, and a few loaves, or rather cakes, of the pre¬ 
cise pattern of some which have been found in Pompeii: on the 
right, an eel spitted on a wire, a ham, a boar’s head, and a joint 
of meat, which, as pig-meat seems to have been in request here, 
we may conjecture to be a loin ot pork; at least it is as like that 
as anything else. It is suspended by a reed, as is still done at 
Rome. The execution of this painting is coarse and careless in 
the extreme, yet there is a spirit and freedom of touch which has 
hit off the character of the objects represented, and forbids us to 
impute the negligence which is displayed to incapacity. Another 
object of interest in the kitchen is a stove for stews and similar 
preparations, very much like those charcoal stoves which are 

seen in exten¬ 
sive kitchens 
at the present 
day. Before it 
lie a knife, 
strainers, and a 
strange - look¬ 
ing sort of a fry¬ 
ing-pan, with 
four spherical 
cavities, as if it 

KITCHEN FURNITURE AT POMPEII. 



were meant to 

cook eggs. A similar one, containing twenty-nine egg-holes, has 
been found, which is circular, about fifteen inches in diameter, 
and without a handle. Another article of kitchen furniture is a 
sort of flat ladle pierced with holes, said to belong to the class 
called trua . It was meant apparently to stir up vegetables, etc., 
while boiling, and to strain the water from them. 

This house has been long excavated, and perhaps that is the 
reason that, considering its extent and splendor, the notices of it 
are particularly meagre. Of the decorations we have been able 


































GENERAL VIEW OF HOUSE. 


85 


to procure no detailed accounts, though several paintings are said 
to have been found in it, and among them, one of Danae amid 
the golden shower, deserving of notice. Of the garden little can 
be said, for little is known. According to the best indications 
which Mazois could observe, it consisted of a number of straight 
parallel beds, divided by narrow paths, which gave access to them 
for horticultural purposes, but with no walk for air and exercise 
except the portico which adjoins the house. 

Inferior to the House ol Pansa, and to some others in size, 
but second to none in elegance of decoration and in the interest 
which it excites, is a house in the street leading from the Gate of 
Herculaneum to the Forum, called by some the House of Actseon, 
from a painting found in it; by others the House of Caius Sallus- 
tius. It occupies the southernmost portion of an insula extend¬ 
ing backwards to the city walls. 

It is remarkable that the architects of Pompeii seem to have 
been careless for the most part whether they built on a regular or 
an irregular area. The practice of surrounding the owner’s 
abode with shops, enabled them to turn to advantage the sides 
and corners of any piece of ground, however misshapen. Thus 
in another plan the apartments of the dwelling-houses are 
almost all well shaped and rectangular, though not one of the 
four angles of the area is a right angle. 

The cr eneral view of this house is taken from the street in 
front, and runs completely through to the garden wall. One of 
the pilasters which flank the doorway has its capital still in good 
preservation. It is cut out of gray lava, and represents a Silenus 
and Faun side by side, each holding one end of an empty leather 
bottle, thrown over their shoulders. Ornaments ol this chai- 
acter, which can be comprehended under none ol the orders ol 
architecture, are common in Pompeii, and far from unpleasing in 
their effect, however contrary to established principles.' On the 
right is the large opening into the vestibule. In the centre ol the 


86 


HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 


view is the atrium, easily recognized by the impluvium, and be¬ 
yond it through the tablinum are seen the pillars of the portico. 
Beyond the impluvium is the place of a small altar lor the wor¬ 
ship of the Lares. A bronze hind, through the mouth of which a 
stream of water flowed, formerly stood in the centre of the basin. 
It bore a figure of Hercules upon its back. 

The walls of the atrium and tablinum are curiously stuccoed 
in large raised panels, with deep channels between them, the 
panels being painted of different colors, strongly contrasted with 
each other. 

We find among them different shades of the same color, sev¬ 
eral reds, for instance, as sinopis, cinnabar, and others. This 
sort of decoration has caused some persons to call this the house 
of a color-seller—a conjecture entirely at variance with the luxury 
and elegance which reign in it. The floor was of red cement, 
with bits of white marble imbedded in it. 

The altar in the atrium and the little oratory in the left-hand 
ala belong to the worship of the Lares domestici or familiares , 
as is indicated by*the paintings found in the false doorway, but 
now i emo\ ed. f he\ consisted of a serpent below and a group 

of four figures above, employed in celebrating a sacrifice to these 
gods. 


In the centre is a tripod, into which a priest, his head cov- 
eied, is pouring the contents of a patera. On each side are two 
} oung men, dressed alike, apparently in the prsetexta; at least 
their robes are white, and there is a double red stripe down the 
front of their tunics, and a red drapery is thrown over the should- 
eis of each. In one hand each holds a patera; in the other each 
holds aloft a cow’s horn perforated at the small end, through 
which a stream is spouting into the patera at a considerable dis¬ 
tance. This, though an inconvenient, seems to have been a com¬ 
mon drinking-vessel. The method of using it has already been 
desci ibed. In the background is a man playing on the double flute. 



WORSHIP OF THE LARES. 


87 


The worship of the Lares was thus publicly represented, and 
their images were exposed to view, that all persons might have 
an opportunity of saluting them and invoking prosperity on the 
house. Noble families had also a place of domestic worship 
(adytum or penetrate) in the most retired part of their mansions, 
where their most valuable records and hereditary memorials were 
preserved. 

The worship of these little deities {DU minuti , or patellar ii ) 
was universally popular, partly perhaps on account of its eco¬ 
nomical nature, for they seem to have been satisfied with any¬ 
thing that came to hand, partly perhaps from a sort of feeling of 
good fellowship in them and towards them, like that connected 
with the Brownies and Cluricaunes, and other household goblins 
of northern extraction. 

Like those goblins they were represented sometimes under 
very grotesque forms. There is a bronze figure of one found at 
Herculaneum, and figured in the Antiquites d’Herculanum, 
plate xvii. vol. viii., which represents a little old man sitting on 
the ground with his knees up to his chin, a huge head, ass’s ears, 
a long beard, and a roguish face, which would agree well with 
our notion of a Brownie. Their statues were often placed be¬ 
hind the door, as having power to keep out all things hurtful, 
especially evil genii. Respected as they were, they sometimes 
met with rough treatment, and were kicked or cuffed, or thrown 
out of window without ceremony, if any unlucky accident had 
chanced through their neglect. Sometimes they were imaged 
under the form of dogs, the emblems of fidelity and watchfulness, 
sometimes, like their brethren of the highways (Lares compi- 
tales), in the shape of serpents. 

The tutelary genii of men or places, a class of beings closely 
allied to Lares, were supposed to manifest themselves in the same 
shape: as, for example, a sacred serpent was believed at Athens 
to keep watch in the temple of Athene in the Acropolis. Hence 


88 


HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST 


paintings of these animals became in some sort the guardians ot 
the spot in which they were set up, like images of saints in 
Roman Catholic countries, and not unfrequently were employed 
when it was wished to secure any place from irreverent treat¬ 
ment. 

From these associations the presence of serpents came to 
be considered of good omen, and by a natural consequence they 
were kept (a harmless sort of course) in the houses, where they 
nestled about the altars, and came out like dogs or cats to be 
patted by the visitors, and beg for something to eat. Nay, at 
table, if we may build upon insulated passages, they crept about 
the cups of the guests; and in hot weather ladies would use them 
as live boas, and twist them round their necks for the sake of 
coolness. 

Martial, however, our authority for this, seems to consider 
it as an odd taste. Virgil, therefore, in a fine passage, in which 
he has availed himself of the divine nature attributed to serpents, 
is only describing a scene which he may often have witnessed : 

Scarce had he finished, when with speckled pride. 

A serpent from the tomb began to glide; 

His hugy bulk on seven high volumes rolled; 

Blue was his breadth of back, but streaked with scaly gold; 

Thus, riding on his curls, he seemed to pass 
A rolling fire along, and singe the grass. 

More various colors through his body run, 

Than Iris, when her bow imbibes the sun. 

Betwixt the rising altars, and around, 

The rolling monster shot along the ground. 

With harmless play amidst the bowls he passed, 

And with his lolling tongue assayed the taste; 

Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest 
Within the hollow tomb retired to rest. 

The pious prince, surprised at what he viewed, 

The funeral honors with more zeal renewed; 

Doubtful if this the place’s genius were, 

Or guardian of his father’s sepulchre. 

We may conjecture from the paintings, which bear a marked 


DOMESTICATED SERPENTS. 


89 


resemblance to one another, that these snakes were of consider¬ 
able size, and ot the same species, probably that called TEscula- 
pius, which was brought from Epidaurus to Rome with the 
worship ot the god, and, as we are told by Pliny, was commonly 
fed in the houses of Rome. These sacred animals made war on 
the rats and mice, and thus kept down one species of vermin; 
but as they bore a charmed life, and no one laid violent hands on 
them, they multiplied so fast, that, like the monkeys of Benares, 
they became an intolerable nuisance. The frequent tires at Rome 
were the only things that kept them under. 

Passing through the tablinum, we enter the portico of the 
xystus, or garden, a spot small in extent, but full of ornament and 
of beauty, though not that sort of beauty which the notion of a 
garden suggests to us. It is not larger than a city garden, the 
object of our continual ridicule; yet while the latter is ornamented 
only with one or two scraggy poplars, and a few gooseberry - 
bushes with many more thorns than leaves, the former is elegant¬ 
ly decorated by the hand of art, and set apart as the favorite re¬ 
treat of festive pleasure. True it is that the climate of Italy suits 
out-of-door amusements better than our own, and that Pompeii 
was not exposed to that plague of soot which soon turns marble 
goddesses into chimney-sweepers. The portico is composed of 
columns, fluted and corded, the lower portion of them painted 
blue, without pedestals, yet approaching to the Roman rather 
than to the Grecian Doric. The entablature is gone. From the 
portico we ascend by three steps to the xystus. Its small extent, 
not exceeding in its greatest dimensions seventy feet by twenty, 
did not permit trees, hardly even shrubs, to be planted in it. The 
centre, therefore, was occupied by a pavement, and on each side 
boxes filled with earth were ranged for flowers; while, to make 
amends for the want of real verdure, the whole wall opposite the 
portico is painted with trellises and fountains, and birds drinking 
from them; and above, with thickets enriched and ornamented 
with numerous tribes of their winged inhabitants. 


9 ° 


HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 


The most interesting discoveries at Pompeii are those which 
throw light on, or confirm passages of ancient authors. Exactly 
the same style of ornament is described by Pliny the Younger as 
existing in his Tuscan villa. “Another cubiculum is adorned 
with sculptured marble for the height of the podium; above which 
is a painting of trees, and birds sitting on them, not inferior in 
elegance to the marble itself. Under it is a small fountain, and 
in the fountain a cup, round which the playing of several small 
water-pipes makes a most agreeable murmur.” At the end of 
this branch of the garden, which is shaped like an L, we see an 
interesting monument of the customs of private life. It is a sum¬ 
mer triclinium, in plan like that which has been mentioned in the 
preceding chapter, but much more elegantly decorated. The 
couches are of masonry, intended to be covered with mattresses 
and rich tapestry when the feast was to be held here: the round 
table in the centre was of marble. Above it was a trellis, as is 
shown by the square pillars in front and the holes in the walls 
which enclose two sides of the triclinium. These walls are ele¬ 
gantly painted in panels, in the prevailing taste ; but above the 
panelling there is a whimsical frieze, appropriate to the purpose 
of this little pavilion, consisting of all sorts of eatables which can 
be introduced at a feast. When Mazois first saw it the colors 
were fresh and beautiful ; but when he wrote, after a lapse of 
ten years, it was already in decay, and ere qow it has probably 
disappeared, so perishable are all those beauties which can not 
be protected from the inclemency of the weather by removal. 
In front a stream of water pours into a basin from the wall, 
on which, half painted, half raised in relief, is a mimic fountain 
surmounted by a stag. Between the fountain and triclinium, in 
a line between the two pilasters which supported the trellis, was 
a small altar, on which the due libations might be poured by 
the festive party. In the other limb of the garden is a small 
furnace, probably intended to keep water constantly hot for the 


DISCOVERIES CONFIRM ANCIENT AUTHORS. 91 

• 

use of those who preferred warm potations. Usually the Romans 
drank their wine mixed with snow, and clarified through a 
strainer, of which there are many in the Museum of Naples, 
curiously pierced in intricate patterns ; but those who were under 
medical care were not always suffered to enjoy this luxury. 
Martial laments his being condemned by his physician to drink 
no cold wine, and concludes with wishing that his enviers may 
have nothing but warm water. At the other end of the garden, 
opposite the front of the triclinium, was a cistern which collected 
the rain waters, whence they were drawn for the use of the 
garden and of the house. There was also a cistern at the end 
of the portico, next the triclinium. 

The several rooms to the left of the atrium offer nothing re¬ 
markable. On the right, however, as will be evident upon in¬ 
specting the plan, a suite of apartments existed, carefully detached 
from the remainder of the house, and communicating only with 
the atrium by a single passage. The disposition and the orna¬ 
ments of this portion of the house prove that it was a private 
venereum , a place, if not consecrated to the goddess from whom 
it derives its name, at least especially devoted to her service. 
The strictest privacy has been studied in its arrangements ; no 
building overlooks it; the only entrance is closed by two doors, 
both of which we may conjecture, were never suffered to be open 
at once; and beside them was the apartment of a slave, whose 
duty was to act as porter and prevent intrusion. Passing the 
second door, the visitor found himself under a portico supported 
by octagonal columns, with a court or open area in the centre, 
and in the middle of it a small basin. At each end of the por¬ 
tico is a small cabinet, with appropriate paintings: in one of them 
a painting of Venus, Mars, and Cupid is conspicuous. 

The apartments were paved with marble, and the walls lined 
breast-hUh with the same material. A niche in the cabinet 
nearest the triclinium contained a small image, a gold vase, a 


C )2 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 

* 

gold coin, and twelve bronze medals of the reign of Vespasian; 
and near this spot were found eight small bronze columns, which 
appear to have formed part of a bed. 

In the adjoining lane four skeletons were found, apparently a 
female attended by three slaves; the tenant perhaps of this ele¬ 
gant apartment. Beside her was a round plate of silver, which 
probably was a mirror, together with several golden rings set 
with engraved stones, two ear-rings, and five bracelets of the 
same metal. 

Both cabinets had glazed windows, which commanded a 
view of the court and of each other; it is conjectured that they 
were provided with curtains. The court itself presents no trace 
of pavement, and, therefore, probably served as a garden. 

The ground of the wall is black, a color well calculated to 
set off doubtful complexions to the best advantage, while its 
sombre aspect is redeemed by a profusion of gold-colored orna¬ 
ment, in the most elegant taste. The columns were painted with 
the color called sinopis Ponticum , a species of red ochre of bril¬ 
liant tint. Nearly all the wall of the court between the cabinets 
is occupied by a large painting of Actseon, from which the house 
derives one of its names; on either side it is flanked by the repre¬ 
sentation of a statue on a high pedestal. The centre piece com¬ 
prises a double action. In one part we see a rocky grotto, in 
which Diana was bathing when the unwary hunter made his ap¬ 
pearance above: in the other he is torn by his own dogs, a severe 
punishment for an unintentional intrusion. The background rep¬ 
resents a wild and mountainous landscape. A painted frieze, 
and other paintings on the walls, complete the decorations of the 
portico. 

The large apartment was a triclinium for the use of this 
portion ot the house, where the place of the table, and of the beds 
which surrounded it on three sides, was marked by a mosaic pave¬ 
ment. Over the left-hand portico there was a terrace. The 


ORNAMENTATION AND DRAPERIES. 


93 


space marked 36 contained the stair which gave access to it, a 
stove connected probably with the service of the triclinium and 
other conveniences. 

In the centre room is the opening into the tablinum, which 
probably was only separated from the atrium by curtains ( para - 
peiasmata ), which might be drawn or undrawn at pleasure. 
Through the tablinum the pillars of the peristyle and the fountain 
painted on the garden wall are seen. To the right of the tab¬ 
linum is the fauces, and on each side of the atrium the alse are 
seen, partly shut off, like the tablinum, by handsome draperies. 
The nearer doors belong to chambers which open into the atrium. 
Above the colored courses of stucco blocks the walls are painted 
in the light, almost Chinese style of architecture, which is so 
common, and a row of scenic masks fills the place of a cornice. 
The ceiling is richly fretted. 9 

The compluvium also was ornamented with a row of tri¬ 
angular tiles called antefixes, on which a mask or some other 
object was moulded in relief. Below, lions’ heads are placed 
along the cornice at intervals, forming spouts through which the 
water was discharged into the impluvium beneath. Part of this 
cornice, found in the house of which we speak, is well deserving 
our notice, because it contains, within itself, specimens of three 
different epochs of art, at which we must suppose the house was 
first built, and subsequently repaired. 

It is made of fine clay, with a lion’s head moulded upon it, 
well designed, and carefully finished. It is plain, therefore, that 
it was not meant to be stuccoed, or the labor bestowed in its 
execution would have been in great part wasted. At a later 
period it has been coated over with the finest stucco, and addi¬ 
tional enrichments and mouldings have been introduced, yet with¬ 
out injury to the design or inferiority in the workmanship; 
indicating that at the time of its execution the original simplicity 
of art had given way to a more enriched and elaborate style ol 


94 


HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 

ornament, yet without any perceptible decay, either in the taste 
of the designer or the skill of the workman. 

Still later this elegant stucco cornice had been covered with 
a third coating of the coarsest materials, and of design and exe¬ 
cution most barbarous, when it is considered how fine a model 
the artists had before their eyes. 

In the restoration, the impluvium is surrounded with a mosaic 
border. This has disappeared, if ever there was one; but mosaics 
are frequently found in this situation, and it is, therefore, at all 
events, an allowable liberty to place one here, in a house so dis¬ 
tinguished for the richness and elegance of its decorations. 

Beside the impluvium stood a machine, now in the National 
Museum, for heating water, and at the same time warming the 
room if requisite. The high circular part, with the lid open, is a 
reservoir, communicating with the semi-circular piece, which is 
hollow, and had a spout to discharge the heated water. The 
three eagles placed on it are meant to support a kettle. The char¬ 
coal was contained in the square base. 

• In the preceding pages we have taken indiscriminately, from 
all quarters of the town, houses of all classes, from the smallest 
to the most splendid, in the belief that such would be the best 
way of showing the gradations of wealth and comfort, the dif¬ 
ferent styles of dwelling adopted by different classes of citizens, in 
proportion to their means. It would, however, be manifestly im¬ 
possible so to classify all the houses which contain something 
worthy of description, and we shall, therefore, adopt a topographi¬ 
cal arrangement as the simplest one, commencing at the Gate of 
Herculaneum, and proceeding in as regular order as circum¬ 
stances will permit through the excavated part of the town. 

Most of the houses immediately about the gate appear to 
have been small inns or eating-houses, probably used chiefly by 
country people, who came into market, or by the lower order of 
travelers. Immediately to the right of it, however, at the be- 



REMARKABLE MANSIONS. 


95 


ginning of the street called the Via Consularis, or Domitiana, 
there is a dwelling of a better class, called the House of the 
Musician, from paintings of musical instruments which ornamented 
the walls. Among these were the sistrum, trumpet, double flute, 
and others. Upon the right side of the street, however, the 
buildings soon improve, and in that quarter are situated some of 
the most remarkable mansions, in respect of extent and construc¬ 
tion, which Pompeii affords. They stand in part upon the site of 
the walls which have been demolished upon this, the side next 
the port, for what purpose it is not very easy to say; not to make 
room for the growth of the city, for these houses stand at the 
very limit of the available ground, being partly built upon a 
steep rock. Hence, besides the upper floors, which have perished, 
they consist each of two or three stories, one below another, so 
that the apartments next the street are always on the highest 
level. Those who are familiar with the metropolis of Scotland 
will readily call to mind a similar mode of construction very 
observable on the north side of the High Street, where the 
ground-floor is sometimes situated about the middle of the house. 

One of the most remarkable of these houses contains three 
stories; the first, level with the street, contains the public part of 
the house, the vestibule, atrium, and tablinum, which opens upon 
a spacious terrace. Beside these is the peristyle and other private 
apartments, at the back of which the terrace of which we have 
just spoken offers an agreeable walk for the whole breadth of the 
house, and forms the roof of a spacious set of apartments at a 
lower level, which are accessible either by a sloping passage from 
the street, running under the atrium, or by a staircase communi¬ 
cating with the peristyle. This floor contains baths, a triclinium, • 
a spacious saloon, and other rooms necessary for the private use 
of a family. Behind these rooms is another terrace, which over¬ 
looks a spacious court surrounded by porticoes, and containing a 
piscina or reservoir in the centre. The pillars on the side next 


C)6 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 

the house are somewhat higher than on the other three sides, so 
as to give the terrace there a greater elevation. Below this 
second story there is yet a third, in part under ground, which 
contains another set of baths, and, besides apartments for other 
purposes, the lodging of the slaves. This was divided into little 
cells, scarcely the length of a man, dark and damp; and we can 
not enter into it without a lively feeling of the wretched state to 
which these beings were reduced. 

A few steps further on the same side, is another house some¬ 
what of the same description, which evidently belonged to some 
man of importance, probably to Julius Polybius, whose name has 
been found in several inscriptions. Fragments of richly -giit 
stucco-work enable us .to estimate the richness of its decoration 
and the probable wealth of its owner. It will be readily distin¬ 
guished by its immense Corinthian atrium, or rather peristyle. 
It has the further peculiarity of having two vestibules each com¬ 
municating with the street and with the atrium. The portico of 
the atrium is formed by arcades and piers, ornamented with at¬ 
tached columns, the centre being occupied by a court and foun¬ 
tain. These arcades appear to be enclosed by windows. Square 
holes, worked in the marble coping of a dwarf wall which sur¬ 
rounds the little court, were perfectly distinguishable, and it is 
concluded that they were meant to receive the window-frames. 

Pliny the Younger describes a similar glazed portico at his 
Laurentine villa; and an antique painting, representing the baths 
ot Faustina, gives the view of a portico, the apertures of which 
are entirely glazed, as we suppose them to have been here. The 
portico, and three apartments which communicate with it, were 
* paved in mosaic. Attached to one of the corner piers there is a 
fountain. 1 he kitchen and other apartments were below this 
floor. There was also an upper story, as is clear from the re¬ 
mains of stair-cases. This house extends to the point at which a 
by-street turns away from the main road to the Forum. We 


HOUSE OF THE VESTALS. 


97 

will now return to the gate, to describe the triangular island of 
houses which bounds the main street on the eastern side. 

That close to the gate, called the House of the Triclinium, 
derives its name from a large triclinium in the centre of the peri¬ 
style, which is spacious and handsome, and bounded by the city 
walls. The House of the Vestals is a little further on. What 
claim it has to this title, except by the rule of contraries, we are 
at a loss to guess; seeing that the style of its decorations is very 
far from corresponding with that purity of thought and manners 
which we are accustomed to associate with the title of vestal. 
The paintings are numerous and beautiful, and the mosaics re¬ 
markably fine. Upon the threshold here, as in several other 
houses, we find the word u Salve” (Welcome), worked in mosaic. 
One may be seen in cut on page 30. 

We enter by a vestibule, divided into three compartments, 
and ornamented with four attached columns, which introduces us 
to an atrium, fitted up in the usual manner, and surrounded by 
the usual apartments. 'The most remarkable of these is a tricli¬ 
nium, which formerly was richly paved with glass mosaics. 
Hence we pass into the private apartments, which are thus de¬ 
scribed by Bonucci:— u This house seems to have been originally 
two separate houses, afterwards, probably, bought by some rich 
man, and thrown into one. After traversing a little court, around 
which are the sleeping chambers, and that destined to business, 
we hastened to render our visit to the Penates. We entered the 
pantry, and rendered back to the proprietors the greeting that, 
from the threshold of this mansion, they still direct to strangers. 
We next passed through the kitchen and its dependencies. The 
corn-mills seemed waiting for the accustomed hands to grind with 
them, after so many years of repose. Oil standing in glass ves¬ 
sels, chestnuts, dates, raisins, and figs, in the next chamber, an¬ 
nounce the provision for the approaching winter, and large am¬ 
phorae of wine recall to us the consulates of Caesar and of Cicero. 

7 




98 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 

“We entered the private apartment. Magnificent porticoes 
are to be seen around it. Numerous beautiful columns covered 
with stucco, and with very fresh colors, surrounded a very agree- 
able garden, a pond, and a bath. Elegant paintings, delicate 
ornaments, stags, sphinxes, wild and fanciful flowers everywhere 
cover the walls. The cabinets of young girls, and their toilets, 
with appropriate paintings, are disposed along the sides. In this 


BROOCHES OF GOLD FOUND AT POMPEII. 

last were found a great quantity of female ornaments, such as seen 
in the cut, and others, and the skeleton of a little dog. At the 
extremity is seen a semicircular room adorned with niches, and 
formerly with statues, mosaics, and marbles. An altar, on which 
the sacred fire burned perpetually, rose in the centre. This is 
the scicrartum. In this secret and sacred place the most solemn 
and memorable days of the family were spent in rejoicing; and 
here, on birthdays, sacrifices were offered to Juno, or the Genius, 
the protector of the new-born child.” 












































SURGICAL AND OTHER INSTRUMENTS. 


99 


The next house is called the House of a Surgeon, because a 
variety of surgical instruments were found in it. In number they 
amounted to forty; some resembled instruments still in use, others 
are different from anything employed by modern surgeons. In 
many the description of Celsus is realized, as, for instance, in the 
specillum, or probe, which is concave on one side and flat on the 
other; the scalper excisorius, in the shape of a lancet-point on one 
side and ol a mallet on the other; a hook and forceps, used in 
obstetrical practice. The latter are said to equal in the con¬ 
venience and ingenuity of their construction the best efforts of 
modern cutlers. Needles, cutting compasses (circini excisorii), 
and other instruments were found, all of the purest brass with 
bronze handles, and usually enclosed in brass or boxwood cases. 

There is nothing remarkable in the house itself, which con¬ 
tains the usual apartments, atrium, peristyle, etc., except the 
paintings. These consist chiefly of architectural designs, combi¬ 
nations of golden and bronze-colored columns placed in perspec¬ 
tive, surmounted by rich architraves, elaborate friezes, and 
decorated cornices, one order above another. Intermixed are 
arabesque ornaments, grotesque paintings, and compartments with 
figures, all apparently employed in domestic occupations. 

One of them represents a female figure carrying rolls of 
papyrus to a man who is seated and intently reading. The method 
of reading: these rolls or volumes, which were written in trans- 
verse columns across the breadth of the papyrus, is clearly shown 
here. Behind him a young woman is seated, playing on the harp. 
All these figures are placed under the light architectural designs 
above described, which seem intended to surmount a terrace. It 
is a common practice at the present day in Italy, especially near 
Naples, to construct light treillages on the tops of the houses, 
where the inhabitants enjoy the evening breeze, al fresco , in the 
same way as is represented in these paintings. 

The peristyle is small, but in good preservation. Its inter- 


IOO 


HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 


columniations are tilled up by a dwarf wall painted red, the lower 
part of the columns being painted blue. This house runs through 
the island from one street to the other. Adjoining it, on the 

south, is the custom-house,. 
telonium . Here a wide en¬ 
trance admits us into an am¬ 
ple chamber, where many 
scales were found, and among: 
them a steelyard, statera y 
much resembling those now 
in use, but more richly and 
tastefully ornamented. 

Many weights of lead and 
marble were found here; one 
with the inscription, “ Erne 
et habebis ” (Buy and you 
shall have), also scales. Near the custom-house is a soap manu¬ 
factory. In the first room were heaps of lime, the admirable 
quality of which has excited the wonder of modern plasterers. 
In an inner room are the soap-vats, placed on a level with the 
ground. 

Besides these, the block contains three houses which have 
been distinguished by names, the House of Isis and Osiris, the 
House of Narcissus, and the House of the Female Dancers. Of 
these the latter is remarkable for the beauty of the paintings, 
which adorn its Tuscan atrium. 

Among them are four very elegant figures of female dancers,, 
from which the name given to the house is taken. Another rep¬ 
resents a figure reposing on the border of a clear lake, surrounded 
by villas and palaces, on the bosom of which a flock of ducks, 
and wild-fowl are swimming. The house of Narcissus is dis¬ 
tinguished by the elegance of its peristyle; the inter-columnia- 
tions are filled up by a dwarf wall, which is hollowed at the top,, 




SCALES FOUND AT POMPEII. 





















SHOP OF AN APOTHECARY. 


IOI 


probably to receive earth for the cultivation of select flowers. 
Our materials do not admit of a fuller description of the houses 
in this quarter. 

Passing onwards from the House of Sallust, the next island 
to the south, separated from it by a narrow lane, affords nothing 
remarkable, except the shop of a baker, to the details of which, 
in conjunction with the art of dyeing, we purpose to devote a 
separate chapter. It is terminated in a sharp point by the foun¬ 
tain before mentioned. The disposition of the streets and houses 
everywhere is most unsymmetrical, but here it is remarkably so, 
even for Pompeii. Just by the house with the double vestibule 
the main street divides into two, inclined to each other at a very 
acute angle, which form, together with a third cross street of 
more importance, called the Strada delle Terme, or Street of the 
Baths, another small triangular island. 

The house of the apex was an apothecary’s shop. A great 
many drugs, glasses, and vials of the most singular forms, were 
found here; in some of the latter fluids were yet remaining. In 
particular one large glass vase is to be mentioned, capable of 
holding two gallons, in which was a gallon and a half of a reddish 
liquid, said to be balsam. On being opened, the contents began 
to evaporate very fast, and it was, therefore, closed hermetically. 
About an inch in depth of the contents has been thus lost, leaving 
on the sides of the vessel a sediment, reaching up to the level to 
which it was formerly filled. The right-hand street leads to 
buildings entirely in ruins, the left-hand one, which is a continua¬ 
tion of the Via Consularis, or Domitiana, conducts us towards 
the Forum. 

Immediately to the eastward of the district just described is 
the House of Pansa, which occupies a whole block. The block 
between it and the city walls, on the north, offers nothing remark¬ 
able. Beyond, still to the east, is a block separated from it by a 
narrow street, called the Via della Fullonica, and bounded on the 


102 


HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST. 


other side by the Street of Mercury, which runs in a straight line 
from the walls nearly to the Forum. This block contains, besides 
several private houses of great beauty, the Fullonica, or estab¬ 
lishment for the fulling and dyeing of woolen cloths. This, to¬ 
gether with the bake-house above mentioned, will be described 
further on. 



« 
























]40U£E OF j"foLCONIUJ5. 

Passing on the insula or block, bounded on the north by the 
Street of Holconius, on the south by the Street of Isis, on the west 
by the Street of the Theatres, and on the east by that of Stabise, 
we find two remarkable houses excavated within the last few 
years. That at the northern corner of the street of the Theatres, 
numbered 4 on the entrance, is sometimes called the House of 
Holconius. The two stores which precede it, numbered 2 and 3, 
seem to have been the property of the master of the house, and 
communicate with each other. A third shop, numbered 1, at 
the angle of the street, appears to have been occupied by a dyer, 
and is called Taberna OfFectoris. On the front of the house were 
some inscriptions for electioneering purposes. 

The pilasters on either side of the main entrance are painted 
red to about the height of a man, beyond which they are of white 
plaster. On entering the prothyrum may be observed a large 
hole in the wall, destined for the reception of the repagulum , or 
strong wooden bar with which the door was secured. The door 
appears, from the places for bolts on the threshold, to have been 
composed af two pieces (bifora). The walls of the prothyrum 
are painted black, with a red podium, divided into three com¬ 
partments by green and yellow lines, in the middle of which are 
an aquatic bird, perhaps an ibis, a swan with spread wings, and 
an ornament that can not be made out. Towards the top the 
walls are painted with fantastic pieces of architecture on a white 
ground; amidst which, on one side, is a nymph descending appar- 

103 



HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS. 


IO 4 

ently from heaven. She has a golden-colored vest, on her 
shoulders is a veil agitated by the breeze, and she bears in her 
hand a large dish tilled with fruits and herbs. On the other side 
was a similar figure, playing on the lyre, with a sky-blue vest and 
rose-colored veil that fluttered about her. The remaining archi¬ 
tectural paintings contained little winged Cupids, one holding a 
cornucopia, another a drum, and two with baskets of fruits and 
flowers. These were the good geniuses, which, by being depict¬ 
ed at the entrance of a house, repelled all evil influences and ren¬ 
dered it a joyful abode. 

The pavement of the Tuscan atrium is variegated with small 
pieces of white marble placed in rows. The impluvium in the 
middle appears to have been under repair, as it is stripped of its 
marble lining. The walls of the atrium are painted red, with 
vertical black zones like pilasters, or antce , besides lines and orna¬ 
ments of various colors. On the wall to the left of the entrance 
is painted a recumbent Silenus, crowned with ivy, and pressing 
in his arms the little Bacchus, who in alarm is endeavoring to es¬ 
cape from his embraces. Near it, on a yellow ground, is the 
bearded head of a man, with two claws projecting from his 
temples like horns, and a beard floating as if it was in the water. 
It may probably be a mask of Oceanus, who is represented on 
coins of Agrigentum in a somewhat similar manner. Under the 
head is the figure of a hippocampus. 

Many objects were found in this atrium, some at the height 
of four or five yards from the floor, which must consequently 
have fallen in from the upper stories; and others on the pavement 
itself. But one ol the most important discoveries was the skele¬ 
ton of a woman, near the entrance of the tablinum. She appears 
to have been in the act of flight, and had with her a small box 
containing her valuables and nick-nacks. Among the most 
curious of these was a necklace composed of amulets, or charms, 
which, it will be observed, are all attributes of Isis and her at- 



WALL PAINTING DISCOVERED AT POMPEII. 

slave who conducted the business of it. The first bed-chamber 
on the left had a similar communication with the store outside. 

There are few houses in Pompeii in which the paintings are 
more numerous or better preserved than in that which we aie ex- 
aminin°\ The second bed-chamber on the right has se"\eial. In 
this room may be observed a space hollowed in the wall to re¬ 
ceive the foot of a bed or couch. The walls are white, with 


DECORATIONS OF THE BED-CHAMBERS. I 05 

tendant, Anubis, or of her husband Osiris, here considered as 
Bacchus. The mystic articles kept in the Isiac coffer were, says 
Eusebius, a ball, dice, {turbo) wheel, mirror, lock of wool. 

The first bed-chamber on the right of the atrium communi¬ 
cated with the store No. 3, and was probably occupied by the 


















































































































































































































io6 


HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS. 


a red podium, and are surmounted by a cornice from which 
springs the vault. The upper part is painted with lines, be¬ 
tween which are depicted griffins in repose, baskets with thyrsi, 
branches of herbs, and other objects. 

The lower part of the walls is divided into larger compart¬ 
ments by candelabra supporting little globes. In each compart¬ 
ment are eight small pictures, representing the heads and busts 
of Bacchic personages, in a very good state of preservation. On 
the left is Bacchus, crowned with ivy, his head covered with the 
mitra , a sort of veil of tine texture which descends upon his left 
shoulder. This ornament, as well as the cast of his features, re¬ 
veals the half feminine nature of the deity. Opposite to him is 
the picture of Ariadne, also crowned with ivy, clothed in a green 
chiton and a violet himation . She presses to her bosom the in¬ 
fant Iacchus, crowned with the eternal ivy, and bearing in his. 
hand the thyrsus. Then follow Bacchic or Panic figures, some 
conversing, some drinking together, some moving apparently in 
the mazes ol the dance. Paris, with the Phrygian cap and crook, 
seems to preside over this voluptuous scene, and to listen to a 
little Cupid seated on his shoulder. 

In the chamber on the opposite side of the atrium, fronting 
that just described, were also four pictures, two of which are 
destroyed, the walls having apparently been broken through, not 
long after the destruction of Pompeii, by persons in search of 
their buried property. Of the other two, which are almost 
effaced, one represents an aged Faun, holding in his hands a 
thyrsus and a vase; the other young woman conversing with 
an African slave. A wooden chest seems to have stood close to 
the left-hand wall. 

The left ala , or wing, has its walls painted in yellow and 
red compartments, with a black podium. In the middle of each 
\\ as a \ aluable painting, but these, with the exception of the 
greater part ol one fronting the entrance, have been almost 


PERSEUS AND ANDROMEDA. 


IO 7 

destroyed. The one saved represents Apollo, who has over¬ 
taken Daphne, and is clasping her in his arms, while the nymph, 
who has fallen on her knees, repels the embraces of the deity. A 
malicious little Cupid, standing on tiptoes, draws aside the golden- 
tissued veil which covered the nymph, and displays her naked 
form. On the left of the same apartment is a picture, almost 
effaced, of Perseus and Andromeda; and on the right another 
with three male figures, of which only the lower part remains. 

The right ala , which, however, from its capability of being 
closed with a door, does not properly come under that denomina¬ 
tion, seems, from various culinary utensils of metal and earthen¬ 
ware found in it, to have served as a kitchen, or rather perhaps 
as a store-closet. 

The tablinum, opposite the entrance, and, as usual, without 
any' enclosure on the side of the atrium, has a small marble 
threshold, and on its floor little squares of colored marbles sur¬ 
rounded with a mosaic border. The yellow walls, divided into 
compartments by vertical stripes of red, white, and black, were 
beautifully ornamented with the usual architectural designs and 
flying figures. On each side were two larger pictures, of which 
only that on the left of the spectator remains. It represents Leda 
showing to Tyndareus a nest containing the two boys produced 
from the egg. A stucco cornice runs round the wall, above 
which a flying nymph is painted on a white ground, between two 
balconies, from which a man and woman are looking down. 
There are also figures of sphinxes, goats, etc. 

A wooden staircase on the left of the tablinum, the first step 
being of stone, led to the floor above. On the right is the pas¬ 
sage called fauces , leading to the peristyle. On its left-hand side, 
near the ground, was a rudely traced figure of a gladiator, with 
an inscription above, of which only the first letters, PRIMI, re¬ 
main. On the left wall of the fauces, near the extremity, and 
level with the eye, is another inscription, or graffito, in small char- 


io8 


HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS. 


acters, difficult to be deciphered from the unusual nexus ol the 
letters, but which the learned have supposed to express the design 
of an invalid to get rid of the pains in his limbs by bathing them 
in water. 

At the extremity of the fauces , on the right, there is an en¬ 
trance to a room which has also another door leading into the 
portico of the peristyle. The walls are painted black and red, 
and in the compartments are depicted birds, animals, fruits, etc. 
Two skeletons were found in this room. In the apartment to the 
left, or east of the tablinum, of which the destination can not be 
-certainly determined, the walls are also painted black, with arch¬ 
itectural designs in the middle, and figures of winged Cupids 
variously employed. On the larger walls are two paintings, of 
which that on the right represents the often-repeated subject of 
Ariadne, who, just awakened from sleep, and supported by a fe¬ 
male figure with wings, supposed to be Nemesis, views with an 
attitude of grief and stupor the departing ship of Theseus, already 
far from Naxos. On the left side is a picture of Phryxus, cross¬ 
ing the sea on the ram and stretching out his arms to Helle, who 
has fallen over and appears on the point of drowning. The form 
•of this chamber, twice as long as it is broad, its vicinity to the 
kitchen, and the window, through which the slaves might easily 
convey the viands, appear to show that it was a triclinium, or 
dining-room. 

The floor, which is lower by a step than the peristyle, is 
paved with opus Signinum , and ornamented only at one end with 
a mosaic. On one of the walls, about ten feet from the floor, is 
the graffito, Sodales Avete (Welcome Comrades), which could 
have been inscribed there only by a person, probably a slave, 
mounted on a bench or a ladder. 

The viridarium, or xystus, surrounded with spacious porti¬ 
coes, was once filled with the choicest flowers, and refreshed by 
the grateful murmur of two fountains. One of these in the mid- 


EPIGRAPHS AND INSCRIPTIONS. 109 

die of the peristyle is square, having in its centre a sort of round 
table from which the water gushed forth. The other fountain,, 
which faces the tablinum, is composed of a little marble staircase,, 
surmounted by the statue of a boy having in his right hand a 
vase from which the water spirted, and under his left arm a 
goose. The statue is rather damaged. 

Many objects were found in the peristyle, mostly of the kind 
usually discovered in Pompeian houses. Among them was an 
amphora, having the following epigraph in black paint : 

COUM. GRAN. 

OF. 

ROMEE. ATERIO. FELICI. 

which has been interpreted to mean that it contained Coan wine 
flavored with pomegranate, and that it came from Rome, from 
the stores of Aterius Felix. 

The portico is surrounded by strong columns, and seems to 
have had a second order resting on the first, as may be inferred 
from some indications to the right of him who enters from the 
fauces . The walls are painted red and black, with architectural 
designs, candelabra, meanders, birds, winged Cupids, etc. There 
are also fourteen small pictures enclosed in red lines, eight of 
which represent landscapes and sea-shores, with fishermen, and 
the other six fruits and eatables. On the wall on the right side 
is the following graffito , or inscription, scratched with some sharp 
instrument: 

IIX. ID. IVL. AXVNGIA. PCC. 

ALIV. MANVPLOS. CCL. 

That is: u On the 25th July, hog’s lard, two hundred pounds. 
Garlic, two hundred bunches.” It seems, therefore, to be a do¬ 
mestic memorandum of articles either bought or sold. 

Around the portico are several rooms, all having marble 
thresholds, and closed by doors turning on bronze hinges. On 


I IO 


HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS. 


the right hand of the peristyle, near the entrance, is a private door, 
or posticum , leading into the Street of the Theatres, by which the 
master of the house might escape his importunate clients. 

The rooms at the sides of the peristyle offer nothing remark¬ 
able, but the three chambers opposite to the tablinum are of con¬ 
siderable size, and contain some good pictures. The first on the 
right has two figures of Nereids traversing the sea, one on a sea- 
bull the other on a hippocampus. Both the monsters are guided 
by a Cupid with reins and whip, and followed by dolphins. 
Another painting opposite the entrance is too much'effaced to be 
made out. The same wall has a feature not observed in any other 
Pompeian house, namely, a square aperture of rather more than 
a foot reaching down to the floor, and opening upon an enclosed 
place with a canal or drain for carrying off' the water of the ad¬ 
joining houses. It seems also to have been a receptacle for 
lamps, several of which were found there. 

Adjoining this room is a large exedra with a little impluvium 
in the middle, which seems to indicate an aperture in the roof, a 
construction hitherto found only in atria. The absence of any 
channels in the floor for conducting water seems to show that it 
could not have been a fountain. This exedra is remarkable for 
its paintings. In the wall in front is depicted Narcissus with a 
javelin in his hand, leaning over a rock and admiring himself in 
the water, in which his image is reflected; but great part of the 
painting is destroyed. A little Cupid is extinguishing his torch 
in the stream. In the background is a building with an image 
of the bearded Bacchus; and near it a terminal figure of Priapus 
Ithyphallicus, with grapes and other fruits. This picture was 
much damaged in the process of excavation. 

On the left wall is a painting of a naked Hermaphroditus. 
In his right hand is a little torch reversed; his left arm rests on 
the shoulders of Silenus, who appears to accompany his songs on 
the lyre, whilst a winged Cupid sounds the double flute. On the 




ARIADNE DISCOVERED BY BACCHUS. 


I I I 


other side is a Bacchante with a thyrsus and tambourine, and 
near her a little Satyr, who also holds a torch reversed. 

But the best picture in this apartment is that representing 
Ariadne discovered by Bacchus. A youthful figure with wings, 
supposed to represent Sleep, stands at Ariadne’s head, and seems 
to indicate that she is under his influence. Meanwhile a little 
Faun lifts the veil that covers her, and with an attitude indicating 
surprise at her beauty, turns to Bacchus and seems to invite him 
to contemplate her charms. The deity himself, crowned with ivy 
and berries, clothed in a short tunic and a pallium agitated by 
the breeze, holds in his right hand the thyrsus, and lifts his left in 
token of admiration. In the background a Bacchante sounds her 
tympanum, and invites the followers of the god to descend from 
the mountains. These, preceded by Silenus, obey the summons; 
one is playing the double flute, another sounding the cymbals, a 
third bears on her head a basket of fruit. A Faun and a Bac¬ 
chante, planted on a mountain on the left, survey the scene from 
a distance. 

The adjoining triclinium, entered by a door from the exedra, 
had also three paintings, one of which however is almost destroyed. 
Of the remaining two, that on the left represents Achilles dis¬ 
covered by Ulysses among the damsels of Lycomedes. The sub¬ 
ject of that on the right is the Judgment of Paris. It is more 
remarkable for its spirit and coloring than for the accuracy of its 
drawing. This apartment has also six medallions with heads of 
Bacchic personages. 

In the same block as the house just described, and having 
its entrance in the same street, stands the house of Cornelius 
Rufus. It is a handsome dwelling, but as its plan and decora¬ 
tions have nothing to distinguish them from other Pompeian 
houses, we forbear to describe them. The only remarkable fea¬ 
ture in this excavation was the discovery of a Hermes at the bot¬ 
tom of the atrium on the left, on which was a marble bust of the 


I 12 


HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS. 


owner, as large as life and well executed, having his name in¬ 
scribed beneath. 

Not far from the houses just described, in the Street of 
Stabiae, at the angle formed by the street leading to the amphi¬ 
theatre, stands the House of Apollo Citharcedus, excavated in 
1864. It derives its name from a fine bronze statue, as large as 
life, of Apollo sounding the lyre, which was found there, but has 
now been placed in the Museum at Naples. In this house the 
tablinum and a peristyle beyond are on a higher level than the 
atrium; consequently the fauces , or passage leading to the latter, 
ascends. In the peristyle is a semicircular fountain, on the mar¬ 
gin of which were disposed several animals in bronze, represent¬ 
ing a hunting scene. In the centre was a wild boar in flight at¬ 
tacked by two dogs ; at the sides were placed a lion, a stag, and 
a serpent. These animals, arranged in the same way in which 
they were found, are now preserved in the Museum. 

Adjoining the House of Lucretius are several stores. That 
next door but one appears to have belonged to a chemist or color- 
maker. On the right of the atrium is a triple furnace, constructed 
for the reception of three large cauldrons at different levels, which 
were reached by steps. The house contained a great quantity 
of carbonized drugs. At the sides of the entrance were two 
stores for the sale of the manufactured articles. In one of these 
stores was discovered, some yards below the old level of the soil, 
the skeleton of a woman with two bracelets of gold, two of silver, 
four ear-rings, five rings, forty-seven gold, and one hundred and 
ninety-seven silver coins, in a purse of netted gold. 





General Purvey of the £ity. 

Proceeding southward along the Street of Mercury, we pass 
under the triumphal arch of Nero, and crossing the transverse 
street which leads towards the Gate of Nola, enter the Street of 
the Forum, a continuation of the Street of Mercury, leading 
straight to the triumphal arch at the north end of the Forum, 
and bounding the island of the Baths on the eastern side. This 
street is one of the most spacious in Pompeii. A long list of ar¬ 
ticles was found here in the course of excavation. One of the 
houses about the centre of the street nearly opposite the entrance 
to the Thermae, is of more consequence than the rest, and has 
been named the House of Bacchus, from a large painting of that 
god on a door opposite to the entry. Channels for the introduc¬ 
tion of water were found in the atrium, which has been sur¬ 
rounded by a small trough, formed to contain flowers, the outer 
side of which is painted blue, to imitate water, with boats float¬ 
ing upon it. The wall behind this is painted with pillars, between 
which are balustrades of various forms. Cranes and other birds 
perch upon these, and there is a back ground of reeds and other 
vegetables, above which the sky is visible. The greater portion 
of the eastern side of the street is occupied by a row of shops 
with a portico in front of them. It is flanked on either side by 
footpaths, and must have presented a noble appearance when 
terminated by triumphal arches at either end, and overlooked by 
the splendid Temple of Jupiter and that of Fortune elevated on 
its lofty basis. 

8 ii 3 














GENERAL SURVEY OF THE CITY. 


II 4 

It is to be noticed that the last-named edifice does not stand 
symmetrically either with the Street of the Forum or with the 
Street of the Baths running past the House of the Pansa. u The 
portico,” we quote again from Cell, u is turned a little towards 
the Forum, and the front of the temple is so contrived that a part 
of it might be seen also from the other street. It is highly prob- 



GOLD BREASTPINS FOUND AT POMPEII. 

able that these circumstances are the result of design rather than 
of chance. The Greeks seem to have preferred the view of a 
magnificent building from a corner, and there is scarcely a right- 
angled plan to be found either in ancient or modern Italy.” In 
the Street of the Forum has been established a temporary museum 
of articles found in Pompeii. Adjoining it is a library containing 
all the best works that have been written on the city. 

The street running westward between the baths and the 
Forum presents nothing remarkable, except that in it are the 
signs of the milk-shop and school of gladiators. There is also an 















WINE MERCHANT’S SIGN. 


IIS 

altar, probably dedicated to Jupiter, placed against the wall of a 
house; above it is a bass-relief in stucco, with an easrle in the 
tympanum. Eastward of the Forum this street assumes the 
name of the Street of Dried Fruits, from an inscription showing 
that dried fruits were sold in it; and, indeed, a considerable 
quantity of figs, raisins, chestnuts, plums, hempseed, and similar 
articles were found. It is now, however, usually called the Street 
of the Augustals. 

Near the point at which this street is intersected by that of 
Eumachia, running at the back of the .east side of the Forum, 
there is a remarkably graceful painting of a youthful Bacchus 
pressing the juice of the grape into a vase placed upon a pil¬ 
lar, at the foot of which is a rampant animal expecting the liquor, 
apparently meant for a tiger or panther, but of very diminutive 
size. This picture is one foot five inches high and one foot two 
inches wide. It probably served for the sign of a wine-merchant. 
Corresponding with it, on the other side of the shop, is a painting 
of Mercury, to render that knavish god propitious to the owner’s 
trade. 

We will now proceed to the Street of Abundance, or of the 
Merchants, formerly called the Street of the Silversmiths. This 
is about twenty-eight feet wide, and bordered on each side by 
foot-paths about six feet wide, which are described as made in 
several places of a hard plaster, probably analogous to opus 
Signinum. At the end next the Forum it is blocked up by two 
steps, which deny access to wheel carriages, and is in other parts 
so much encumbered by large stepping-stones that the passage 
of such vehicles, if not prohibited, must have been difficult and 
inconvenient. 

We may here take notice of a peculiarity in this street. It 
slopes with a very gentle descent away from the Forum, and the 
courses of masonry, instead of being laid horizontally, run par- 


II6 GENERAL SURVEY OF THE CITY. 

allel to the slope of the ground, a unique instance, as we believe, 
of such a construction. 

The doors of several shops in this street have left perfect 
impressions on the volcanic deposit, by which it appears that the 
planks of which they were, made lapped one over the other, like 
the planks of a boat. 

Although the houses that line this street have now been 
cleared, there still remains a large unexcavated space on its 
southern side. The only house requiring notice is that called the 
Casa del Cinghiale, or House of the Wild Boar, a little way 
down on the right-hand side in going from the Forum. Its name 
is derived from the mosaic pavement of the prothyrum, repre¬ 
senting a boar attacked by two dogs. The house is remarkable 
for its well-preserved peristyle of fourteen Ionic columns, with 
their capitals. On the right is a brick staircase leading to a large 
garden. The atrium is bordered with a mosaic representing the 
walls of a city with towers and battlements, supposed by some 
to be the walls of Pompeii. 

Just beyond this house is a small street or lane, turning down 
to the right, called the Vicolo dei Dodici Dei , from a painting on 
the outside wall of the corner house, in the manner of a frieze, 
representing the twelve greater divinities. Below is the usual 
painting of serpents. At the corner of the quadrivium is the 
apothecary’s shop, in which was a large collection of surgical in¬ 
struments, mortars, drugs, and pills. The house is not otherwise 
remarkable. 

Ot the early excavations at the southern extremity of the 
town few records are preserved. In the Quarter of the Theatres, 
besides the public buildings, there are but two houses of any in¬ 
terest. These occupy the space between the Temple of FEscu- 
lapius and the small theatre. The easternmost of them is one of 
the most interesting yet discovered in Pompeii, not for the beauty 
or curiosity ot the building itself, but for its contents, which prove 


sculptor’s laboratory. 


it to ha\ e been the abode of a sculptor, tdere were found 
statues, some half finished, others just begun, with blocks of 
marble, and all the tools required by the artist. Among these 
were thiity-two mallets, - many compasses, curved and straight, a 
great quantity of chisels, three or four levers, jacks for raising 
blocks, saws, etc., etc. The house has the usual arrangement of 
atrium, tablinum, and peristyle, but, owing to the inclination of 
the ground, the peristyle is on a higher level than the public part 



4 LABORATORY, AS FOUND IN POMPEII. 


of the house, and communicates with it by a flight of steps. A 
large reservoir for water extended under the peristyle, which was 
in good preservation when first found, but has been much injured 
by the failure of the vault beneath. 

Returning by the southernmost of the two roads which lead 
to the Forum, we find, beside the wall of the triangular Forum 
as it is called, one of the most remarkable houses in Pompeii, if 
not for its size, at least for its construction. 

The excavations here made were begun in April, 1769, in 
the presence of the Emperor Joseph II., after whom this house 
has been named; but after curiosity was satisfied, they were filled 
up again with rubbish, as was then usual, and vines and poplars 



































































































































































4 


I 1 8 HOUSE OF EMPEROR JOSEPH II. 

covered them almost entirely at the time when Mazois examined 
the place, insomuch that the underground stories were all that he 
could personally observe. The emperor was accompanied in his 
visit by his celebrated minister, Count Kaunitz, the King and 
Queen of Naples, and one or two distinguished antiquaries. This 
was one of the first private dwellings excavated at Pompeii. It 
appears to have been a mansion of considerable magnificence, 
and, from its elevated position, must have commanded a tine view 
over the Bay of Naples towards Sorrento. The “ find ” was so 
good on the occasion ot the emperor’s visit, as to excite his sus¬ 
picion ot some deceit. The numerous articles turned up afforded 
Sir W. Hamilton an opportunity to display his antiquarian knowl¬ 
edge. Joseph appears to have been rather disgusted on hearing 
that only thirty men were employed on the excavations, and in¬ 
sisted that three thousand were necessary. We give a cut of the 
house, page 119. 



» 


! 



















FIRST WALLS DISCOVERED IN POMPEII. 










































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































* 




The Amphitheatre stands some hundred yards from the 
theatres, in the south-eastern angle of the walls of the town Al¬ 
though, perhaps, of Etruscan origin, the exhibitions of the amphi¬ 
theatre are so peculiarly Roman, and Pompeii contains so many 
mementos of them, that a detailed account of them will not per¬ 
haps be misplaced. At an early period, B. C. 263, the practice 
of compelling human beings to tight for the amusement of spec¬ 
tators was introduced; and twelve years later the capture of sev¬ 
eral elephants in the first Punic war proved the means of intro¬ 
ducing the chase, or rather the slaughter, of wild beasts into the 
Roman circus. The taste for these spectacles increased of course 
with its indulgence, and their magnificence with the wealth of 
the city and the increasing facility and inducement to practice 
bribery which was offered by the increased extent of provinces 
subject to Rome. It was not, however, until the last period of the 
republic, or rather until the domination of the emperors had col¬ 
lected into one channel the tributary wealth which previously was 
divided among a numerous aristocracy, that buildings were erect 
ed solely for the accommodation of gladiatorial shows; buildings 
entirely beyond the compass of a subject’s wealth, and in which 
perhaps the magnificence of imperial Rome is most amply dis- 

120 















THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


I 2 I 



The Greek word, which by a slight alteration of its termi¬ 
nation we render amphitheatre, signifies a theatre, or place of 
spectacles, forming a continuous inclosure, in opposition to the 
simple theatre, which, as we have said, was semicircular, but 
with the seats usually continued somewhat in advance of the di¬ 
ameter of the semicircle. The first amphitheatre seems to have 
been that of Curio, consisting of two movable theatres, which 
could be placed face to face or back to back, according to the 
species of amusement for which they were required. 

Usually, gladiatorial shows were given in the Forum, and 


played. Numerous examples scattered throughout her empire, 
in a more or less advanced state ol decay, still attest the luxury 
and solidity ot their construction; while at Rome the Coliseum 
(see frontispiece) asserts the pre-eminent splendor of the metrop¬ 
olis—a monument surpassed in magnitude by the Pyramids alone, 
and as superior to them in skill and varied contrivance of design 
as to other buildings in its gigantic magnitude. 


VIEW OF THE AMPHITHEATRE AT POMPEII. 























122 


AMUSEMENTS. 


the chase and combats of wild beasts exhibited in the Circus, 
where once, when Pompey was celebrating games, some enraged 
elephants broke through the barrier which separated them from 
the spectators. This circumstance, together with the unsuitable¬ 
ness of the Circus for such sports, from its being divided into two 
compartments by the spina, a low wall surmounted by pillars, 
obelisks, and other ornamental erections, as well as from its dis¬ 
proportionate length, which rendered it ill adapted to afford a 
general view to all the spectators, determined Julius Caesar, in his 
dictatorship, to construct a wooden theatre in the Campus Mar- 
tius, built especially for hunting, “ which was called amphithea¬ 
tre (apparently the first use of the word) because it was encom¬ 
passed by circular seats without a scene.” 

The first permanent amphitheatre was built partly of stone 
and partly of wood, by Statilius Taurus, at the instigation of 
Augustus, who was passionately fond of these sports, especially 
of the hunting of rare beasts. This was burnt during the reign 
of Nero, and though restored, fell short of the wishes of Vespas¬ 
ian, who commenced the vast structure—completed by his son 
Titus—called the Flavian Amphitheatre, and subsequently the 
Coliseum. The expense of this building it is said would have 
sufficed to erect a capital city, and, if we may credit Dion, 9,000 
wild beasts were destroyed in its dedication. Eutropius restricts 
the number to 5,000. When the hunting was over the arena 
was filled with water, and a sea-fight ensued. 

The construction of these buildings so much resembles the 
construction of theatres, that it will not be necessary to describe 
them at any great length. Without, they usually presented to 
the view an oval wall, composed of two or more stories of arcades, 
supported by piers of different orders of architecture adorned 
with pilasters or attached pillars. Within, an equal number of 
stories of galleries gave access to the spectators at different ele¬ 
vations, and the inclined plane of the seats was also supported 




THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


I23 


upon piers and vaults, so that the ground plan presented a num¬ 
ber ol circular rows of piers, arranged in radii converging to the 
centre of the arena. A suitable number of doors opened upon 
the ground floor, and passages from thence, intersecting the cir¬ 
cular passages between the piers, gave an easy access to every 
part of the building. Sometimes a gallery enconlpassed the 
whole, and served as a common access to all the stairs which led 
to the upper stories. This was the case in the amphitheatre at 
Nismes. Sometimes each staircase had its distinct communica¬ 
tion from without: this was the case at Verona. 

The arrangement of the seats was the same as in theatres; 
they were divided horizontally by pnecinctiones, and vertically 
into cunei by staircases. The scene and apparatus of the stage 
was of course wanting, and its place occupied by an oval area, 
called arena, from the sand with which it was sprinkled, to ab¬ 
sorb the blood shed, and give a firmer footing than that afforded 
by a stone pavement. It was sunk twelve or fifteen feet below 
the lowest range of seats, to secure the spectators from injury, 
and was besides fenced with round wooden rollers turning in their 
sockets, placed horizontally against the wall, such as the reader 
may have observed placed on low gates to prevent dogs from 
climbing over, and with strong nets. In the time of Nero these 
nets were knotted with amber, and the Emperor Carinus caused 
them to be made of golden cord or wire. Sometimes, for more 
complete security, ditches, called euripi , surrounded the arena. 
This was first done by Caesar, as a protection to the people against 
the elephants which he exhibited, that animal being supposed to 
be particularly afraid of water. The arena was sometimes spread 
with pounded stone. Caligula, in a fit of extravagance, used 
chrysocolla; and Nero, to surpass him, caused the brilliant red of 
cinnabar to be mixed with it. 

In the centre of the arena was an altar dedicated sometimes 
to Diana or Pluto, more commonly to Jupiter Latiaris. the pro- 


I2 4 


AMUSEMENTS. 


tector of Latium, in honor of whom human sacrifices were offered. 
Passages are to be found in ancient writers, from which it is in¬ 
ferred that the games of the amphitheatre were usually opened 
by sacrificing a besticirius , one of those gladiators whose profes¬ 
sion was to combat wild beasts, in honor of this bloodthirsty 
deity. Beneath the arena dens are supposed to have been con¬ 
structed to contain wild beasts. 

At the Coliseum numerous underground buildings are said 
by Fulvius to have existed, which he supposed to be sewers con¬ 
structed to drain and cleanse the building. Others with more 
probability have supposed them to be the dens of wild beasts. 
Immense accommodation was requisite to contain the thousands 
of animals which were slaughtered upon solemn occasions, but no 
great provision need have been made to carry off the rain-water 
which fell upon the six acres comprised within the walls of the 
building. Others again have supposed them formed to introduce 
the vast bodies of water by which the arena was suddenly trans¬ 
formed into a lake when imitations of naval battles were exhib¬ 
ited. Doors pierced in the wall which supported the podium 
communicated with these, or with other places of confinement 
beneath the part allotted to the audience, which being thrown 
open, vast numbers of animals could be introduced at once. Vo- 
piscus tells us that a thousand ostriches, a thousand stags, and a 
thousand boars were thrown into the arena at once by the Em¬ 
peror Probus. Sometimes, to astonish, and attract by novelty, 
the arena was converted into a wood. “ Probus,” says the same 
author, “ exhibited a splendid hunting match, after the following 
manner: Large trees torn up by the roots were firmly connected 
by beams, and fixed upright; then earth was spread over the 
roots, so that the whole circus was planted to resemble a wood, 
and offered us the gratification of a green scene.” 

I he same order of precedence was observed as at the the¬ 
atre—senators, knights, and commons having each their appro- 



THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


I2 5 

priate place. To the former was set apart the podium, a broad 
precinction or platform which ran immediately round the arena. 
Hither they brought the curule seats or bisellia, described in 
speaking of the theatres of Pompeii; and here was the suggestus, 
a covered seat appropriated to the Emperor. It is supposed that 
in this part ol the building there were also seats of honor for the 
exhibitor of the games and the vestal virgins. If the podium was 
insufficient for the accommodation of the senators, some of the 
adjoining seats were taken for their use. Next to the senators 
sat the knights, who seem here, as in the theatre, to have had 
fourteen rows set apart for them; and with them sat the civil and 
military tribunes. Behind were the popularia, or seats of the 
plebeians. Different tribes had particular cunei allotted to them. 
There were also some further internal arrangements, for Augus¬ 
tus separated married from unmarried men, and assigned a sep¬ 
arate cuneus to youths, near whom their tutors were stationed. 
Women were stationed in a gallery, and attendants and servants 
in the highest gallery. The general direction of the amphithe¬ 
atre was under the care of an officer named villicus cimphitlieatri . 
Officers called locarii attended to the distribution of the people, 
and removed any person from a seat which he was not entitled 
to hold. We may notice, as a refinement of luxury, that concealed 
conduits were carried throughout these buildings, from which 
scented liquids were scattered over the audience. Sometimes the 
statues which ornamented them were applied to this purpose, and 
seemed to sweat perfume through minute holes, with which the 
pipes that traversed them were pierced. It is this to which Lu¬ 
can alludes in the following lines:— 

-As when mighty Rome’s spectators meet 

In the full theatre’s capacious seat, 

At once, by secret pipes and channels fed, 

Rich tinctures gush from every antique head; 

At once ten thousand saffron currents flow, 

And rain their odors on the crow T d below. 

Rowe’s Lucan , book ix. 




126 


AMUSEMENTS. 


Saffron was the material usually employed for these refreshing 
showers. The dried herb was infused in wine, more especially 
in sweet wine. Balsams and the more costly unguents were 
sometimes employed for the same purpose. 

Another contrivance, too remarkable to be omitted in a gen¬ 
eral account of amphitheatres, is the awning by which spectators 
were protected from the overpowering heat of an Italian sun. 
This was called Velum, or Velarium; and it has afforded matter 
for a good deal of controversy, how a temporary covering could 
be extended over the vast areas of these buildings. Something 
of the kind was absolutely necessary, for the spectacle often last¬ 
ed for many hours, and when anything extraordinary was ex¬ 
pected the people went in crowds before daylight to obtain places, 
and some even at midnight. 

The Campanians first invented the means of stretching awn¬ 
ings over their theatres, by means of cords stretched across the 
cavea and attached to masts which passed through perforated 
blocks of stone deeply bedded in the wall. Quintus Catulus 
introduced them at Rome when he celebrated games at the dedi¬ 
cation of the Capitol, B. C. 69. Lentulus Spinther, a contem¬ 
porary of Cicero, first erected fine linen awnings (carbasina vela). 
Julius Csesar covered over the whole Forum Romanum, and the 
Via Sacra, from his own house to the Capitol, which was esteemed 
even more wonderful than his gladiatorial exhibition. Dio men¬ 
tions a report that these awnings were of silk, but he speaks 
doubtfully; and it is scarcely probable that even Caesar^ extrava¬ 
gance would have carried him so far. Silk at that time was not 
manufactured at Rome; and we learn from Vopiscus, that even 
in the time of Aurelian the raw material was worth its weight in 
gold. Lucretius, speaking of the effect of colored bodies upon 
transmitted light, has a fine passage illustrative of the magnifi¬ 
cence displayed in this branch of theatrical decoration. 



THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


1 2 7 


This the crowd surveys 
Oft in the theatre, whose awnings broad. 

Bedecked with crimson, yellow, or ilie tint 
Of steel cerulean, from their fluted heights 
Wave tremulous; and o’er the sceue beneath, 

Each marble statue, and the rising rows 
Of rank and beauty, fling their tint superb, 

While as the walls with ampler shade repel 
The garish noonbeam, every object round 
Laughs with a deeper dye, and wears profuse 
A lovelier lustre, ravished from the day. 

Wool, however, was the most common material, and the 
velaria made in Apulia were most esteemed, on account of the 
whiteness of the wool. 

Those who are not acquainted by experience with the diffi¬ 
culty of giving stability to tents of large dimensions, and the 
greater difficulty of erecting awnings, when, on account of the 
purpose for which they are intended, no support can be applied 
in the centre, may not fully estimate the difficulty of erecting and 
managing these velaria. Strength was necessary, both for the 
cloth itself and for the cords which strained and supported it, or 
the whole would have been shivered by the first gust of wind, 
and strength could not be obtained without great weight. Many 
of our readers probably are not aware, that however short and 
light a string may be, no amount of tension applied horizontally 
will stretch it into a line perfectly and mathematically straight. 
Practically the deviation is imperceptible where the power ap¬ 
plied is very large in proportion to the weight and length of the 
string. Still it exists; and to take a common example, the reader 
probably never saw a clothes-line stretched out, though neither 
the weight nor length of the string are considerable, without the 
middle being visibly lower than the ends. When the line is at 
once long and heavy, an enormous power is required to suspend 
it even in a curve between two points; and the amount of tension, 
and difficulty of finding materials able to withstand it, are the 


128 


AMUSEMENTS. 


only obstacles to constructing chain bridges which should be 
thousands, instead of hundreds of feet in length. 

In these erections the piers are raised to a considerable 
height, that a sufficient depth may be allowed for the curve of the 
chains without depressing the roadway. Ten times—a hundred 
times the power which was applied to strain them into that shape 
would not suffice to bring them even so near to a horizontal line 
but that the most inaccurate and unobservant eye should at once 
detect the inequality in their level; and the chains themselves 
would probably give way before such a force as this could be ap¬ 
plied to them. The least diameter of the Coliseum is nearly 
equal in length to the Menai bridge; and if the labor of stretch¬ 
ing cords over the one seems small in comparison with that of 
raising the ponderous chains of the other, we may take into con¬ 
sideration the weight of cloth which those cords supported, and 
the increase of difficulties arising from the action of the wind on 
so extensive a surface. 

In boisterous weather, as we learn from Martial and other 
authors, these difficulties were so great that the velum could not 
be spread. When this was the case the Romans used broad hats, 
or a sort of parasol, which was called umbella or umbraculmn , 
from umbra , shade. We may add, in conclusion, that Suetonius 
mentions as one of Caligula’s tyrannical extravagances, that 
sometimes at a show of gladiators, when the sun’s heat was most 
intense, he would cause the awning to be drawn back, and, at the 
same time, forbid any person to leave the place. 

The difficulty of the undertaking has given rise to consider¬ 
able discussion as to the means by which the Romans contrived 
to extend the velum at such a height over so great a surface, and 
to manage it at pleasure. Sailors were employed in the service, 
for the Emperor Commodus, who piqued himself on his gladia¬ 
torial skill, and used to fight in the arena, believing himself 
mocked by the servile crowd of spectators, when once they hailed 


THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


I29 


him with divine honors, gave order for their slaughter by the 
sailors who were managing the veils. 

Concerning the method of working them no information has 
been handed down. It is evident, however, that they were sup¬ 
ported by masts which rose above the summit of the walls. Near 
the top ot the outer wall of the Coliseum there are 240 consoles, 
or projecting blocks of stone, in which holes are cut to receive 
the ends ol spars, which ran up through holes cut in the cornice 
to some height above the greatest elevation of the building. A 
sufficient number of firm points of support at equal intervals was 
thus procured; and, this difficulty being overcome, the next was 
to stretch as tight as possible the larger ropes, upon which the 
whole covering depended for its stability. 

The games to which these buildings were especially devoted 
were, as we have already hinted, two-fold—those in which wild 
beasts were introduced, to combat either with each other or with 
men, and those in which men fought with men. Under the gen¬ 
eral term of gladiators are comprised all who fought in the arena, 
though those who pitted their skill against the strength and 
ferocity of savage animals were peculiarly distinguished by the 
name of bestiarii . In general these unhappy persons were slaves 
or condemned criminals, who, by adopting this profession, pur¬ 
chased an uncertain prolongation of existence, but freemen some¬ 
times gained a desperate subsistence by thus hazarding their lives; 
and in the decline of Rome, knights, senators, and even the em¬ 
perors sometimes appeared in the arena, at the instigation of a 
vulgar and degrading thirst for popular applause. 

The origin of these bloody entertainments may be found in 
the earliest records of profane history and the earliest stages ot 
society. Among half-civilized or savage nations, both ancient 
and modern, we find it customary after a battle to sacrifice pris¬ 
oners of war in honor of those chiefs who have been slain. Thus 
Achilles offers up twelve young Trojans to the ghost of Patro- 

9 



I 3 ° 


AMUSEMENTS. 


clus. In course of time it became usual to sacrifice slaves at the 
funeral of all persons of condition; and either for the amusement 
of the spectators, or because it appeared barbarous to massacre 
defenceless men, arms were placed in their hands, and they were 
incited to save their own lives by the death of those who were 
opposed to them. 

In later times, the furnishing these unhappy men became 
matter of speculation, and they were carefully trained to the pro¬ 
fession of arms, to increase the reputation and popularity of the 
contractor who provided them. This person was called la?iista 
by the Romans. At first these sports were performed about the 
funeral pile of the deceased, or near his sepulchre, in consonance 
with the idea of sacrifice in which they originated; but as they 
became more splendid, and ceased to be peculiarly appropriated 
to such occasions, they were removed, originally to the Forum, 
and afterwards to the Circus and amphitheatres. 

Gladiators were first exhibited at Rome, B. C. 265, by M. 
and D. Brutus, on occasion of the death of their father. This 
show consisted only of three pairs. B. C. 216, the three sons 
of M. FEmilius Lepidus, the augur, entertained the people in the 
Forum with eleven pair, and the show lasted three days. B. C. 
201, the three sons of M. Valerius Lsevinus exhibited twenty-five 
pairs. And thus these shows increased in number and frequency, 
and the taste for them strengthened with its gratification, until 
not only the heir of any rich or eminent person lately deceased, 
but all the principal magistrates, and the candidates for magis¬ 
tracies, presented the people with shows of this nature to gain 
their favor and support. 

This taste was not without its inconveniences and dangers. 
Men ot rank and political importance kept families , as they were 
called, ot gladiators—desperadoes ready to execute any command 
of their master; and towards the fall of the republic, when party 
rage scrupled not to have recourse to open violence, questions of 



THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


1 3 1 

the highest import were debated in the streets of the city by the 
most despised of its slaves. In the conspiracy of Catiline so. 
much danger was apprehended from them, that particular meas¬ 
ures were taken to prevent their joining the disaffected party; an 
event the more to be feared because of the desperate war in which 
they had engaged the republic a few years before, under the com¬ 
mand of the celebrated Spartacus. At a much later period, at 
the triumph of Probus, A.D. 281, about fourscore gladiators ex¬ 
hibited a similar courage. Disdaining to shed their blood for the 
amusement of a cruel people, they killed their keepers, broke out 
from the place of their confinement, and filled the streets of Rome 
with blood and confusion. After an obstinate resistance they 
were cut to pieces by the regular troops. 

The oath which they took Upon entering the service is pre¬ 
served by Petronius, and is couched in these terms: “We swear, 
after the dictation of Eumolpus, to suffer death by fire, bonds, 
stripes, and the sword; and whatever else Eumolpus may com¬ 
mand, as true gladiators we bind ourselves body and mind to our 
master’s service.” 

From slaves and freedmen the inhuman sport at length 
spread to persons of rank and fortune, insomuch that Augustus 
was obliged to issue an edict, that none of senatorial rank should 
become gladiators; and soon after he laid a similar restraint on 
the knights. 

Succeeding emperors, according to their characters, encour¬ 
aged or endeavored to suppress this degrading taste. ' Nero is 
related to have brought upwards of four hundred senators and 
six hundred knights upon the arena; and in some of his exhibi¬ 
tions even women of quality contended publicly. The excellent 
Marcus Aurelius not only retrenched the enormous expenses of 
these amusements, but ordered that gladiators should contend 
only with blunt weapons. But they were not abolished until 
some time after the introduction of Christianity. Constantine 


TO? 


AMUSEMENTS. 


published the first edict which condemned the shedding of human 
blood, and ordered that criminals condemned to death should 
rather be sent to the mines than reserved for the service of the 
amphitheatre. In the reign of Honorius, when he was celebra¬ 
ting with magnificent 2fames the retreat of the Goths and the de- 
liverance of Rome, an Asiatic monk, by name Telemachus, had 
the boldness to descend into the arena to part the combatants. 
u The Romans were provoked by this interruption of their pleas¬ 
ures, and the rash monk was overwhelmed under a shower of 
stones. But the madness of the people soon subsided; they re¬ 
spected the memory of Telemachus, who had deserved the hon¬ 
ors of martyrdom, and they submitted without a murmur to the 
laws of Honorius, which abolished forever the human sacrifices 
of the amphitheatre.” This occurred A.D. 404. It was not, 
however, until the year 500 that the practice was finally and 
completely abolished by Theodoric. 

Some time before the day appointed for the spectacle, he 
who gave it ( editor ) published bills containing the name and en¬ 
signs of the gladiators, for each of them had his own distinctive 
badge, and stating also how many were to fight, and how long 
the show would last. It appears that like our itinerant showmen 
they sometimes exhibited paintings of what the sports were to 
contain. On the appointed day the gladiators marched in pro¬ 
cession with much ceremony into the amphitheatre. They then 
separated into pairs, as they had been previously matched. An 
engraving on the wall of the amphitheatre at Pompeii seems to 
represent the beginning of a combat. In the middle stands the 
arbitei of the hght, marking out with a long stick the space for 
the combatants. On his right stands a gladiator only half armed, 
to whom two others are bringing a sword and helmet. On the 
left another gladiator, also only partly armed, sounds the trum¬ 
pet for the commencement of the hght; whilst behind him two 


THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


*33 


companions, at the foot of one of the Victories which enclose the 
scene, are preparing his helmet and shield. 

At first, however, they contended only with staves, called 
rudes , or with blunted weapons; but when warmed and inspirited 
by the pretense of battle, they changed their weapons, and ad¬ 
vanced at the sound of trumpets to the real strife. The conquered 
looked to the people or to the emperor for life; his antagonist had 


EXAMINING THE WOUNDED. 



no power to grant or to refuse it; but if the spectators were dis¬ 
satisfied and gave the signal of death, he was obliged to become 
the executioner of their will. This signal was the turning down 
the thumbs; as is well known. If any showed signs of fear, their 
death was certain; if on the other hand they waited the fatal 
stroke with intrepidity, the people generally relented. But fear 
and want of spirit were of very rare occurrence, insomuch that 
Cicero more than once proposed the principle of honor which act¬ 
uated o-ladiators as an admirable model of constancy and courage, 
& 

by which he intended to animate himself and otheis to suffer 
everything in defence of the commonwealth. 

















































































































































































































*34 


AMUSEMENTS. 


The bodies of the slain were dragged with a hook or on a 
cart through a gate called Libitinensis, the Gate of Death. 
The victor was rewarded with a sum of money, contributed by 
the spectators or bestowed from the treasury, or a palm-branch, 
or a garland of palm ornamented with colored ribbons—ensigns 
of frequent occurrence in ancient monuments. Those who sur¬ 
vived three years were released from this service, and sometimes 
one who had given great satisfaction was enfranchised on the 
spot. This was done by presenting the staff ( rudis ) which was 
used in preluding to the combat; on receiving which, the gladia¬ 
tor, if a freeman, recovered his liberty; if a slave, he was not 
made free, but was released from the obligation of venturing his 
life any further in the arena. 

Gladiators were divided, according to the fashion of their 
armor and offensive weapons, into classes, known by the names of 
Thrax, Samnis, Myrmillo, and many others, of which a mere 
catalogue would be tedious, and it would be the work of a treat¬ 
ise to ascertain and describe their distinctive marks. 

Another group consists of four figures. Two are secutores , fol¬ 
lowers, the other two, retiarii , net men, armed only with a tri¬ 
dent and net, ‘with which they endeavored to entangle their 
adversary, and then dispatch him. These classes, like the Thrax 
and Myrmillo, were usual antagonists, and had their name from 
the secutor following the retiarius, who eluded the pursuit until 
he found an opportunity to throw his net to advantage. Nepimus, 
one ot the latter, live times victorius, has fought against one of 
the former, whose name is lost, but who had triumphed six times 
in different combats. He has been less fortunate in this battle.. 
Nepimus has struck him in the leg, the thigh, and the left arm; 
his blood runs, and in vain he implores mercy from the specta¬ 
tors. As the trident with which Nepimus is armed is not a. 
weapon calculated to inflict speedy and certain death, the secutor 



I 35 


THE AMPHITHEATRE. 

Hyppolitus performs this last office to his comrade. The con¬ 
demned wi etch bends the knee, presents his throat to the sword 
and throws himself forward to meet the blow, while Nepimus, 
his conqueror, pushes him, and seems to insult the last moments 
of his victim. In the distance is the retiarius, who must fio-ht 
Hyppolitus in his turn. The secutores have a very plain helmet, 
that their adversary may have little or no opportunity of pulling 
it off with the net or trident; the right arm is clothed in armor, 



the left bore a clypeus, or large round shield; a sandal tied with 
narrow bands forms the covering for their feet. They wear no 
body armor, no covering but a cloth round the waist, for by their 
lightness and activity alone could they hope to avoid death and 
gain the victory. The retiarii have the head bare, except a fillet 

bound round the hair; they have no shield, but the left side is 

♦ 

covered with a demi-cuiarass, and the left arm protected in the 
usual manner, except that the shoulder-piece is very high. They 
wear the caliga, or low boot common to the Roman soldiery, and 
bear the trident; but the net with which they endeavored to en¬ 
velop their adversaries is nowhere visible. This bas-relief is ter¬ 
minated by the combat between a light-armed gladiator and a 
Samnite. This last beseeches the spectators to save him, but it 














! 3 6 


AMUSEMENTS. 


appears from the action of the principal figure that this is not 
granted. The conqueror looks towards the steps of the amphi¬ 
theatre; he has seen the fatal signal, and in reply prepares him¬ 
self to strike. 

Between the pilasters of the door the frieze is continued. 
Two combats are represented. In the first a Samnite has been 
conquered by a Myrmillo. This last wishes to become his com¬ 
rade’s executioner without waiting the answer from the people, 
to whom the vanquished has appealed; but the lanista checks 
his arm, from which it would seem that the Samnite obtained 
pardon. 

Another pair exhibits a similar combat, in which the Myr¬ 
millo falls stabbed to death. The wounds, the blood, and the 
inside of the bucklers are painted of a very bright red color. The 
swords, with the exception of that of Hyppolitus, are omitted; it 
is possible that it was intended to make them of metal. 

i 

The bas-reliefs, constituting the lower frieze are devoted to 
the chase and to combats between men and animals. In the 
upper part are hares pursued by a dog; beyond is a wounded 
stag pursued by dogs, to whom he is about to become the prey; 
below, a wild boar is seized by an enormous dog, which has al¬ 
ready caused his blood to flow. 

In the middle of the composition a bestiarius has transfixed 
a bear with a stroke of his lance. This person wears a kind of 
short hunting boot, and is clothed as well as his comrade in a 
light tunic without sleeves, bound round the hips, and called 
subucula. It was the dress of the common people, as we learn 
from the sculptures on Trajan’s column. The companion of this 
man has transfixed a bull, which flies, carrying with him the 
heavy lance with which he is wounded. He turns his head toward 
his assailant, and seems to wish to return to the attack; the man by 
his gestures appears astonished, beholding himself disarmed and 
at the mercy of the animal, whom he thought mortally stricken. 


THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


J 37 


Pliny (lib. viii. cap. 45) speaks of the ferocity shown by bulls in 
these combats, and of having seen them, when stretched for dead 
on the arena, lift themselves up and renew the combat. 

Another sort of amphitheatrical amusements consisted in 
witnessing the death of persons under sentence of the law, either 
by the hands of the executioner, or by being exposed to the fury 
of savage animals. The early Christians were especially sub¬ 
jected to this species of 
cruelty. Nero availed 
himself of the prejudice 
against them to turn 
aside popular indigna¬ 
tion after the great con¬ 
flagration of Rome, 
which is commonly as¬ 
cribed to his own wanton 
love of mischief; and we 
learn from Tertullian, 
that, after great public 
misfortunes, the cry of 
the populace was, “ To 
the lions with the Christians.” 

The Coliseum now owes its 
preservation to the Christian 
blood so profusely shed within 
its walls. After serving during 
ages as a quarry of hewn stone 
for the use of all whose station and power entitled them to a share 
in public plunder, it was at last secured from further injury by 
Pope Benedict XIV., who consecrated the building about the 
middle of the last century, and placed it under the protection of 
the martyrs, who had there borne testimony with their blood to 
the sincerity of their belief. 








AMUSEMENTS. 


138 

There is nothing in the amphitheatre ot Pompeii at variance 
with the general description of this class of buildings, and our 
notice of it will therefore necessarily be short. (See page 121.) 
Its form, as usual, is oval: the extreme length, from outside to 
outside of the exterior arcade, is 430 feet, its greatest breadth is 
335 feet. The spectators gained admission by tickets, which had 
numbers or marks on them, corresponding with similar signs on 
the arches through which they entered. Those who were enti¬ 
tled to occupy the lower ranges of seats passed through the per¬ 
forated arcades of the lower order; those whose place was in the 
upper portion of the cavea ascended by staircases between the 
seats and the outer wall of the building. From hence the women 
again ascended to the upper tier, which was divided into boxes, 
and appropriated to them. 

The construction consists for the most part of the rough 
masonry called opus incertmn , with quoins of squared stone, 
and some trifling restorations of rubble. This rude mass was 
probably once covered with a more sumptuous facing of hewn 
stone; but there are now no other traces of it than a few of the 
key-stones, on one of which a chariot and two horses is sculptured, 
on another a head; besides which there are a few stars on the 
wedge-stones. 

At each end of the ellipse were entrances into the arena for 
the combatants, through which the dead bodies were dragged out 
into the spoliarium. These were also the principal approaches to 
the lower ranges of seats, occupied by the senators, magistrates, 
and knights, by means of corridors to the right and left which 
ran round the arena. The ends of these passages were secured 
by metal gratings against the intrusion of wild beasts. In the 
northern one are nine places for pedestals to form a line of sep¬ 
aration, dividing the entrance into two parts of unequal breadth. 
The seats are elevated above the arena upon a high podium or 
parapet, upon which, when the building was first opened, there 


THEATRES. 


x 39 


remained several inscriptions, containing the names of duumvirs 
who had presided upon different occasions. There were also 
paintings in fresco, one representing a tigress lighting with a wild 
boar; another, a stag chased by a lioness; another, a battle be¬ 
tween a bull and bear. Other subjects comprised candelabra, a 
distribution of palms among the gladiators, winged genii, min¬ 
strels, and musicians; but all disappeared soon after their ex¬ 
posure to the atmosphere. The amphitheatre comprises twenty- 
four rows of seats, and about 20,000 feet of sitting-room. 

It may be observed that the arena of the amphitheatre of 
Pompeii appears to be formed of the natural surface of the earth, 
and has none of those vast substructions observable at Pozzuoli 
and Capua. It does not, therefore, appear capable of being 
turned into a Naumachia, nor indeed would it have been easy to 
find there water enough for such a purpose. 

In the Roman theatre the construction of the orchestra and 
stage was different from that of the Greeks. By the construction 
peculiar to the Roman theatre, the stage was brought nearer to 
the audience (the arc not exceeding a semi-circle), and made con¬ 
siderably deeper than in the Greek theatre. The length of the 
stag-e was twice the diameter of the orchestra. The Roman ©r- 
chestra contained no thymele. The back of the stage, or pro¬ 
scenium, was adorned with niches, and columns, and friezes of 
great richness, as may be seen in some of the theatres of Asia 
Minor, and in the larger theatre at Pompeii, which belong to the 
Roman period. 

On the whole, however, the construction of a Roman theatre 
resembled that of a Greek one. The Senate, and other dis¬ 
tinguished persons, occupied circular ranges of seats within the 
orchestra; the praetor had a somewhat higher seat. The space 
between the orchestra and the first pnecinctio, usually consisting 
of fourteen seats, was reserved for the equestrian order, tribunes, 
etc. Above them were the seats of the plebeians. Soldiers were 


140 


AMUSEMENTS. 


separated from the citizens. Women were appointed by Augus¬ 
tus to sit in the portico, which encompassed the whole. Behind 
the scenes were the postscenium, or retiring-room, and porticoes, 
to which, in case of sudden showers, the people retreated from 
the theatre. 

The earliest theatres at Rome were temporary buildings of 
wood. A magnificent wooden theatre, built by M. AEmilius 
Scaurus, in his edileship, B.C. 58, is described by Pliny. In 55 
B.C., Cn. Pompey built the first stone theatre at Rome, near the 
Campus Martius. A temple of Venus Victrix, to whom he dedi¬ 
cated the whole building, was erected at the highest part of the 
cavea. 

The next permanent theatre was built by Augustus, and 
named after his favorite, the young Marcellus, son of his sister 
Octavia. Vitruvius is generally reported to have been the arch¬ 
itect of this building, which would contain 30,000 persons. The 
audience part was a semi-circle 410 feet in diameter. Twelve 
arches of its external wall still remain. From marks still vis¬ 
ible in the large theatre at Pompeii, the place reserved for each 
spectator was about 13 inches. This theatre contained 5,000. 
The theatre of Pompeii, at Rome, contained 40,000. The the¬ 
atre of Scaurus is said to have contained 80,000. The Romans 
surpassed the Greeks in the grandeur and magnificence of these 
buildings. They built them in almost all their towns. Remains 
of them are found in almost every country where the Romans 
carried their rule. One of the most striking Roman provincial 
theatres is that of Orange, in the south of France. 

Odeum was a building intended for the recitations of rhap- 
sodists and the performances of citharsedists, before the theatre 
was in existence. In its general form and arrangements the 
odeum was very similar to the theatre. There were, however, 
some characteristic differences. The odeum was much smaller 
than the theatre, and it was roofed over. The ancient and orisri- 



THEATRES. 


H 1 

nal Odeum of Athens in the Agora was probably erected in the 
time of Hipparchus, who, according to Plato, first introduced at 
Athens the poems of Homer, and caused rhapsodists to recite 
them during the Panathenaea. There were two others in Athens 
—the Odeum of Pericles, and that of Herodes Atticus. The 
Odeum of Pericles was built in imitation of the tent of Xerxes. 
It was burnt by Sylla, but was restored in exact imitation of the 
original building. It lay at the east side of the theatre of Diony¬ 
sus. The Odeum of Herodes Atticus was built by him in mem¬ 
ory of his departed wife Regilla, whose name it commonly bore. 
It lies under the southwest angle of the Acropolis. Its greatest 
diameter within the walls was 240 feet, and it is calculated to 
have held about 8,000 persons. There were odea in several of 
the towns of Greece, in Corinth, Patrae, and at Smyrna, Ephesus 
and other places of Asia Minor. There were odea also in Rome; 
one was built by Domitian, and a second by Trajan. There 
are ruins of an Odeum in the villa of Adrian, at Tivoli and at 
Pompeii. 

Remains of amphitheatres are found in several cities of 
Etruria. The amphitheatre of Sutri is considered to be pecu¬ 
liarly Etruscan in its mode of construction. It is cut out of the 
tufa rock, and was no doubt used by that people for festal repre¬ 
sentations long before Rome attempted anything of the kind. The 
Romans copied these edifices from the Etruscans. We have his¬ 
torical evidence, also, that gladiatorial combats had an Etruscan 
origin, and were borrowed by the Romans. 

Amphitheatres were peculiar to the Romans. The gladia¬ 
torial shows, and the chase and combats of wild beasts with 
which the amphitheatre is always connected, were at first given 
in the circus. Its unsuitableness for such sports determined Julius 
Caesar, in his' dictatorship, to construct a wooden theatre in the 
Campus Martius, built especially for hunting. Caius Scribonius 
Curio built the first amphitheatre, for the celebration of his 



142 


AMUSEMENTS. 


father’s funeral games. It was composed of two theatres of 

wood, placed on pivots, so that they could be turned round, 

• 

spectators and all, and placed face to face, thus forming a double 
theatre, or amphitheatre, which ending suggested its elliptical 
shape. Statilius Taurus, the friend of Augustus, B.C. 30, erected 
a more durable amphitheatre, partly of stone and partly of wood, 
in the Campus Martius. Others were afterwards built by Cali¬ 
gula and Nero. * The amphitheatre of Nero was of wood, and 
in the Campus Martius. 

The assembled people in a crowded theatre must have been 
an imposing spectacle, in which the gorgeous colors of the dresses 
were blended with the azure of a southern sky. No antique ren¬ 
dering of this subject remains. The spectators began to assem¬ 
ble at early dawn, for each wished to secure a good seat, after 
paying his entrance fee. This, not exceeding two oboloi, was 
payable to the builder or manager of the theatre. After the 
erection of stone theatres at Athens, this entrance fee was paid 
for the poorer classes by Government, and formed, indeed, one of 
the heaviest items of the budget. For not only at the Dionysian 
ceremonies, but on many other festive occasions, the people 
clamored for free admission, confirmed in their demands by 
the demagogues. Frequently the money reserved for the 
emergency of a war had to be spent for this purpose. 
The seats in a theatre were, of course, not all equally 
good, and their prices varied accordingly. The police of 
the theatre had to take care that everybody took his seat in the 
row marked on his ticket. Most of the spectators were men. 
In oldei times women were allowed only to attend at tragedies, 
the coarse jokes of the comedy being deemed unfit for the ears 
ol Athenian ladies. Only hetairai made an exception to this rule. 
It is almost cei tain that the seats of men and women were sepa¬ 
rate. Boys were allowed to witness both tragedies and comedies. 
Whether sla\es weie admitted amongst the spectators seems 





THEATRES. 


H 3 


doubtful, As pedagogues were not allowed to enter the school¬ 
room, it seems likely that they had also to leave the theatre after 
having shown their young masters to their seats. Neither were 
the slaves carrying the cushions for their masters’ seats admitted 
amongst the spectators. It is, however, possible that when the 
seats became to be for sale, certain classes of slaves were allowed 
to visit the theatre. Favorite poets and actors were rewarded 
with applause and flowers; while bad performers had* to submit 
to whistling, and, possibly, other worse signs of public indigna¬ 
tion. Greek audiences resembled those of southern Europe at 
the present day in the vivacity of their demonstrations, which 
were even extended to public characters amongst the spectators 
on their entering the theatre. 

Vitruvius has given some minute directions, strongly illustra¬ 
tive of the importance of the subject, for choosing a proper situa¬ 
tion for a theatre. u When the Forum is finished, a healthy 
situation must be sought for, wherein the theatre may be erected 
to exhibit sports on the festival days of the immortal gods. For 
the spectators are detained in their seats by the entertainment of 
the games, and remaining quiet for a long time, their pores are 
opened, and imbibe the draughts of air, which, if they come from 
marshy or otherwise unhealthy places, will pour injurious humors 
into the body. Neither must it front the south; for when the 
sun fills the concavity, the inclosed air, unable to escape or circu¬ 
late, is heated, and then extracts and dries up the juices of the 
body. It is also to be carefully observed that the place be not 
unfitted to transmit sound, but one in which the voice may ex¬ 
pand as clearly as possible.” 

The ancient scene was not, like that of the modern stage, 
capable of being shifted. It consisted of a solid building (scena 
stabilis ), representing the facade of a royal palace, and adorned 
with the richest architectural ornaments. It was built of stone, 
or brick cased with marble, and had three doors, of which the 


H 4 


AMUSEMENTS. 


middle one, called 'porta regia , larger and handsomer than the 
others, was supposed to form the entrance to the palace. This 
was used only in the representation of tragedies, and then only by 
the principal personages of the drama. The door in the right 
wing was appropriated to inferior personages, and that on the left 
to foreigners or persons coming from abroad. In our plan, the 
five angles of the triangles not yet disposed of determine the dis¬ 
position of the scene. Opposite the centre one are the regal 
doors; on each side are those by which the secondary characters 
entered. Behind the* scene, as in the Greek theatre, there were 
apartments for.the actors to retire into; and under it were vaults 
or cellars, which, as in the modern stage, served for the entrance 
of ghosts, or the appliance of any needful machinery. The pro¬ 
scenium, or space between the orchestra and the scene, answer¬ 
ing to our stage, though deeper than the Greek, was of no great 
depth, which was not required for the performance of ancient 
dramas, in which only a few personages appeared on the stage at 
once. Besides, in the absence of any roof, the voice of the per¬ 
formers would have been lost if the stage had been too deep. 
That of Pompeii is only about twenty-one feet broad, though its 
length is one hundred and nine. 

Along the front ot the stage, and between it and the orchestra, 
runs a tolerably deep linear opening, the receptacle for the 
aulcsum, 01 cuitain, the fashion of which was just the reverse of 
ouis, as it had to be depressed instead of elevated when the'play 
began. This operation, performed by machinery of which we 
have no clear account, was called aulceum premere . as in the 
well-known line of Horace : * 

Quatuor aut plures auleea premuntur in lioras. 

It should, however, be mentioned that the ancients seem also to 
have had mo\ able scenery (scena ductilis ), to alter the appearance 

*Epp. ii. 1, 189. 


• THEATRES. 


H5 


of the permanent scene when required. This must have consisted 
of painted board or canvas. 

Another method of illusion was by the use of masks. These 
were rendered necessary by the vastness of the ancient theatres, 
and the custom of performing in the open air. 

In the eastern portico of the Triangular Forum are four en- 
trances to different parts of the greater theatre. The first two, 
as you enter, lead into a large circular corridor surrounding the 
whole cavea; the third opens on an area behind the scene, from 
which there is a communication with the orchestra and privileged 
seats; the fourth led down a long flight of steps, at the bottom 
of which you turn, on the right, into the soldiers’ quarter, on the 
left, into the area already mentioned. The corridor is arched 
over. It has two other entrances, one by a large passage from 
the east side, another from a smaller passage on the north. Six 
inner doors, called vomitoria, opened on an equal number of stair¬ 
cases which ran down to the first praecinctio. The theatre is 
formed upon the slope of a hill, the corridor being the highest 
part, so that the audience upon entering descended at once to 
their seats, and the vast staircases, which conducted to the upper 
seats of the theatres and amphitheatres at Rome, were saved. 
By the side of the first entrance is a staircase which led up to the 
women’s gallery above the corridor; here the seats were parti¬ 
tioned into compartments, like our boxes. The benches were 
about one foot three inches high and two feet four inches wide. 
One foot three inches and a half was allowed to each spectator, 
as may be ascertained in one part, where the divisions are marked 
off and numbered. There is space to contain about five thou¬ 
sand persons. Here the middle classes sat, usually upon cushions 
which they brought with them; the men of rank sat in the or¬ 
chestra below, on chairs of state carried thither by their slaves. 
Flanking the orchestra, and elevated considerably above it, are 
observable two divisions, appropriated, one perhaps to the pro- 
io 


146 


AMUSEMENTS. 


consul, or duumvirs and their officers, the other to the vestal 
virgins, or to the use of the person who gave the entertainments. 
This is the more likely, because in the smaller theatre, where 
these boxes, if we may call them so, are also found, they have a 
communication with the stage. 

This theatre appears to have been entirely covered with 
marble; the benches of the cavea were of marble, the orchestra 
was of marble, the scene with all its ornaments was also of 
marble; and yet of this profusion of marble only a few fragments 
remain. 

It appears, from an inscription found in it, to have been 
erected, or much improved, by one Holconius Rufus. Upon the 
first step of the orchestra was another inscription, composed of 
bronze letters let into the marble. The metal has been carried 
away, but the cavities in the marble still remain. They were 
placed so as partly to encompass a statue, and run thus : 

M. HOLCONIO. M. F. RVFO. II. Y.I.D. QVINQVIENS. ITER. 

QVINQ. TRIB. MIL. A. P. FLAMEN. AVG. 

PATR. COLON. D.D. 

signifying, that the colony dedicated this to its patron, M. Hol¬ 
conius Rufus, son of Marcus: then follow his titles. In the 
/middle of this inscription is a vacant space, where probably stood 
the statue of Holconius, as the cramps, by which something was 
fastened, still remain. Or possibly it may have been an altar, as 

it was the custom among the ancients to sacrifice to Bacchus in 
the theatre. 

























/ 





TyOjVl^AN BATH^. 


Alter the excavations at Pompeii had been carried on to a 
considerable extent, it was matter of surprise that no public baths 
were discovered, particularly as they were sure almost to be 
placed in the most frequented situation, and therefore probably 
somewhere close to the Forum. The wonder was increased by the 
small number of baths found in private houses. That public baths 
existed, was long ago ascertained from an, inscription discovered in 
1749, purporting that one Januarius, an enfranchised slave, sup¬ 
plied the baths of Marcus Crassus Frugi with water, both fresh 
and salt. At length an excavation in the vicinity of the Forum 
brought to light a suite of public baths, admirably arranged, 
spacious, highly decorated, and superior to any even in the most 
considerable of our modern cities. They are,fortunately in good 
preservation, and throw much light on what the ancients, and 
especially Vitruvius, have written on the subject. 

Inscription in the Court of the Baths. 

DEDICATIONS, THERMARUM, MUNERIS. CNJEI. 

ALLEI. NIGIDII. MAIL VENATIO. ATHLETAE. 

SPARSIONES. VELA. ERUNT. MAIO. 

PRINCIPI. COLONIZE. FELICITER. 

“ On occasion of the dedication of the baths, at the expense of Cnceus Alleius Nigi- 
dius Maius, there will be the chase of wild beasts, athletic contests, sprinkling of per¬ 
fumes, and an awning. Prosperity to Maius, chief of the colony.” 

This announcement of a public entertainment is written on a 
wall of the court of the baths, to the right hand on entering 

The provincial towns, imitating the example of Rome, and 

T 47 











148 


AMUSEMENTS. 


equally fond of all sorts of theatrical and gladiatorial exhibitions, 
of which we have spoken at length in describing the various 
theatres of Pompeii, usually solemnized the completion of any 
edifices or monuments erected for the public service by dedi¬ 
cating them. This ceremony was nothing more than opening or 
exhibiting the building to the people in a solemn manner, grati- 
fying them at the same time with largesses and various spectacles. 
When a private man had erected the building, he himself was 
usually the person who dedicated it. When undertaken by the 
public order and at the public cost, the citizens deputed some 
magistrate or rich and popular person to perform the ceremony. 
In the capital vast sums were expended in this manner; and a 
man who aspired to become a popular leader could scarcely lay 
out his money to better interest than in courting favor by the 
prodigality of his expenses on these or similar occasions. It ap¬ 
pears, then, that upon the completion of the baths, the Pompeians 
committed the dedication to Cnaeus Alleius Nigidius Maius, who 
entertained them with a sumptuous spectacle. 

There were combats ( venatio ) between wild beasts, or be¬ 
tween beasts and men, a cruel sport, to which the Romans were 
passionately addicted; athletic games {athletes), sprinkling of per¬ 
fumes {sparstones), and it was further engaged that an awning 
should be raised over the amphitheatre. The convenience of 
such a covering will be evident, no less as a protection against 
sun than rain under an Italian sky; the merit of the promise, 
which may seem but a trifle, will be understood by considering 
the difficulty of stretching a covering over the immense area of 
an ancient amphitheatre. We may observe, by the way, that 
representations of hunting and of combats between wild beasts 
are common subjects of the paintings of Pompeii. A combat 
between a lion and a horse, and another, between a bear and a 
bull, have been found depicted in the amphitheatre. The velarium, 
or awning, is advertised in all the inscriptions yet found which give 


ROMAN BATHS. 


H 9 


notice of public games. Athletse and sparsiones appear in no 
other. We learn from Seneca that the perfumes were dissemi¬ 
nated by being mixed with boiling water, and then placed in the 
centre of the amphitheatre, so that the scents rose with the steam, 
and soon became diffused throughout the building. 

° to 

There is some reason to suppose that the completion and 
dedication ol the baths preceded the destruction of the city but a 
short time, from the inscription being found perfect on the wall 
of the baths, for it was the custom to write these notices in the 
most public places, and after a very short season they were cov¬ 
ered over by others, as one billsticker defaces the labors of his 
predecessors. Phis is abundantly evident even in the present 
ruined state of the town, especially at the corners of the principal 
streets, where it is easy to discover one inscription painted over 
another. 

But to return to the Baths. They occupy almost an entire 
block, forming an irregular quadrangle; the northern front, fac¬ 
ing to the Street of the Baths, being about 162 feet in length, the 
southern front about 93 feet, and the Average depth about 174 
feet. They are divided into three separate and distinct compart¬ 
ments, one of which was appropriated to the fireplaces and to the 
servants of the establishment; the other two were occupied each 
by a set of baths, contiguous to each other, similar and adapted 
to the same purposes, and supplied with heat and water from the 
same furnace and from the same reservoir. It is conjectured that 
the most spacious of them was for the use of the men, the lesser 
for that of the women. The apartments and passages are paved 
with white marble in mosaic. It appears, from Varro and 
Vitruvius, that baths for men and women were originally united, 
as well for convenience as economy of fuel, but were separated 
afterwards for the preservation of morals, and had no communi¬ 
cation except that from the furnaces. We shall call these the old 
Baths by way of distinction, and because they were first discov- 


AMUSEMENTS. 


* 5 ° 

ered; but in reality, the more recently discovered Stabian Baths 

may probably be the more ancient. 

It should be observed here that the old Pompeian therm# 
are adapted solely to the original purposes ot a bath, namely, a 
place for bathing and washing. They can not therefore for a 
moment be compared to the baths constructed at Rome during 
the period of the empire, of which such magnificent remains may 
still be seen at the baths of Diocletian, and especially at those of 
Caracalla. In these vast establishments the bath formed only a 
part of the entertainment provided. There were also spacious 
porticoes for walking and conversing, halls and courts for athletic 
games and gladiatorial combats, apartments for the lectures and 
recitations of philosophers, rhetoricians and poets. In short, they 
formed a sort of vast public club, in which almost every species 
of amusement was provided. In the more recently discovered 
baths, called the Thermae Stabianae, there is indeed a large quad¬ 
rangular court, or palaestra, which may have served for gymnas¬ 
tic exercises, and among others for the game of ball, as appears 
from some large balls of stone having been found in it. Yet even 
this larger establishment makes but a very slight approach to the 
magnificence and luxury of a Roman bath. 

The tepidarium, or warm chamber, was so called from 
a warm, but soft and mild temperature, which prepared the 
bodies of the bathers for the more intense heat which they were 
to undergo in the vapor and hot baths'; and, vice versa , softened 
the transition from the hot bath to the external air. The wall is 
divided into a number of niches or compartments by Telamones, 
two feet high, in high relief, and supporting a rich cornice. These 
are male, as Caryatides are female statues placed to perform the 
office of pillars. By the Greeks they were named Atlantes, from 
the well-known fable of Atlas supporting the heavens. Here 
they are made of terra-cotta, or baked clay, incrusted with the 
finest marble stucco. Their only covering is a girdle round the 


ROMAN BATHS. 


I S I 


loins; they have been painted flesh-color, with black hair and 
beards; the moulding of the pedestal and the baskets on their 
heads were in imitation of gold; and the pedestal itself, as well 
as the wall behind them and the niches for the reception of the 
clothes of the bathers, were colored to resemble red porphyry. 
Six of these niches are closed up without any apparent reason. 



ggy£||gg|| 





r f 



[ : |3§L2=|i 






:7^Jj 

iiii 







m it « 






RECEPTION TO THE BATHS {at Pompeii). 


The ceiling is worked in stucco, in low relief, with scattered 
figures and ornaments of little flying genii, delicately relieved on 
medallions, with foliage carved round them. The ground is 
painted, sometimes red and sometimes blue. The room is lighted 
by a window two feet six inches high and three feet wide, in the 
bronze frame of which were found set four very beautiful panes 
of glass fastened by small nuts and screws, very ingeniously con¬ 
trived, with a view to remove the glass at pleasure. In this room 
was found a brazier, seven feet long and two feet six inches broad, 
made entirely of bronze, with the exception of an iron lining. 
The two front legs are winged sphinxes, terminating in lions 1 




































































































1 S 2 


AMUSEMENTS. 


paws; the two other legs are plain, being intended to stand 
against the wall. The bottom is formed with bronze bars, on 
which are laid bricks supporting pumice-stones for the reception 
of charcoal. There is a sort of false battlement worked on the 
rim, and in the middle a cow is to be seen in high relief. Three 
bronze benches also were found, alike in form and pattern. They 
are one foot four inches high, one foot in width, and about six 
feet long, .supported by four legs, terminating in the cloven hoofs 
of a cow, and ornamented at the upper ends with the heads of 
the same animal. Upon the seat is inscribed, M. NIGIDIUS, 
VACCULA. P. S. 

Varro, in his book upon rural affairs, tells us that many of 
the surnames of the Roman families had their origin in pastoral 
life, and especially are derived from the animals to whose breed¬ 
ing they paid most attention. As, for instance, the Porcii took 
their name from their occupation as swine-herds; the Ovini from 
their care of sheep; the Caprilli, of goats; the Equarii, of 
horses; the Tauri, of bulls, etc. We may conclude, therefore, 
that the family of this Marcus Vaccula were originally cow- 
keepers, and that the figures of cows so plentifully impressed on 
all the articles which he presented to the baths ai;e a sort oi can¬ 
ting arms , to borrow an expression from heraldry, as in Rome 
the family Toria caused a bull to be stamped on their money. 

A doorway led from the tepidarium into the caldarium, or 

/ 

vapor-bath. It had on one side the laconicum, containing the 
vase called labrum. On the opposite side of the room was 
the hot bath called lavacrum. Plere it is necessary to refer 
to the words of Vitruvius as explanatory of the structure of the 
apartments (cap. xi. lib. v.): “ Here should be placed the vaulted 
sweating-room, twice the length of its width, which should have 
at each extremity, on one end the laconicum , made as described 
above, on the other end the hot bath.” This apartment is ex¬ 
actly as described, twice the length ol its width, exclusively of 




ROMAN BATHS. 


X 53 


the laconicum at one end and the hot bath at the other. The 
pavement and walls of the whole were hollowed to admit the 
heat. 

The labrum was a great basin or round vase of white 
marble, rather more than five feet in diameter, into which the 
hot water bubbled up through a pipe in its centre, and served 
for the partial ablutions of those who took the vapor-bath. It 
was raised about three feet six inches above the level of the pave¬ 
ment, on a round base built of small pieces of stone or lava, 
stuccoed and colored red, five feet six inches in diameter, and has 
within it a bronze inscription, which runs thus: 

CN 2 EO. MELISS^EO. CN^EI. FILIO. APRO. MARCO. STAIO. MARCI. FILIO. 
RUFO. DUUMVIRIS. ITERUM. IURE. DICUNDO. LABRUM. EX DECURI- 
ONUM DECRETO. EX. PECUNIA. PUBLICA. FACIENDUM. CURARUNT. 
CONSTAT. HS. D.C.C.L. 

Relating that “ Cnseus Melissseus Aper, son of Cngeus Aper. Mar¬ 
cus Staius Rufus, son of M. Rufus, duumvirs of justice for the 
second time, caused the labrum to be made at the public expense, 
by order of the Decurjons. It cost 5,250 sesterces ” (about 
$200). There is in the Vatican a magnificent porphyry labrum 
found in one of the imperial baths; and Baccius, a great modern 
authority on baths, speaks of labra made of glass. 

This apartment, like the others, is well stuccoed and painted 
yellow; a cornice, highly enriched with stucco ornaments, is sup¬ 
ported by fluted pilasters placed at irregular intervals. These 
are red, as is also the cornice and ceiling of the laconicum, which 
is. worked in stucco with little figures of boys and animals. 

The women’s bath resembles very much that of the men, 
and differs only in being smaller and less ornamented. It is 
heated, as we have already mentioned, by the same fire, and sup¬ 
plied with water from the same boilers. Near the entrance is an 
inscription painted in red letters. All the rooms yet retain in 
perfection their vaulted roofs. In the vestibule are seats similar 


I S4 


AMUSEMENTS. 


to those which have been described in the men’s baths as appro¬ 
priated to slaves or servants of the establishment. The robing- 
room contains a cold bath; it is painted with red and yellow pil¬ 
asters alternating with one another on a blue or black ground, 
and has a light cornice of white stucco and a white mosaic pave¬ 
ment with a narrow black border. There are accommodations for 
ten persons to undress at the same time. The cold bath is much 
damaged, the wall only remaining of the alveus, which is square, 
the whole incrustation of marble being destroyed. From this 
room we pass into the tepidarium, about twenty feet square, 
painted yellow with red pilasters, lighted by a small window far 
from the ground. This apartment communicates with the warm 
bath, which, like the men’s, is heated by flues formed in the floors 
and walls. 

There are in this room paintings of grotesque design upon a 
yellow ground, but they are much damaged and scarcely visible. 
The pavement is of white marble laid in mosaic. The room in 
its general arrangement resembles the hot bath of the men; it 
has a labrum in the laconicum, and a hot bath contiguous to the 
furnace. The hollow pavement and the flues in the walls are al¬ 
most entirely destroyed; and of the labrum, the foot, in the mid¬ 
dle of which was a piece of the leaden conduit that introduced the 
water, alone remains. On the right of the entrance into these 
women’s baths is a wall of stone of great thickness and in a good 
style of masonry. 

These baths are so well arranged, with so prudent an 
economy of room and convenient distribution of their parts, and 
are adorned with such appropriate elegance, as to show clearly 
the intellect and resources of an excellent architect. At the same 
time some errors of the grossest kind have been committed, such 
as would be inexcusable in the most ignorant workman; as, for 
instance, the symmetry of parts has been neglected where the 
parts correspond; a pilaster is cut off by a door which passes 





1.1,0:-. I 


as 


ijiuyai'ijiLiliiiii 




nximiiin 




155 


ancient bath-room. ( As discovered) 





















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































AMUSEMENTS. 


J 5 6 

through the middle of it; and other mistakes occur which might 
have been avoided without difficulty. This strange mixture of 
good and bad taste, of skill and carelessness, is not very easily 
accounted for, but it is of constant recurrence in Pompeii. 

Vitruvius recommends the selecting a situation for baths de¬ 
fended from the north and northwest winds, and forming windows 
opposite the south, or if the nature of the ground would not per¬ 
mit this, at least towards the south, because the hours of bath¬ 
ing used by the ancients being from after mid-day till evening, 
those who bathed could, by those windows, have the advantage 
of the rays and of the heat of the declining sun. 

For this reason the Pompeian baths hitherto described have 

- o 

the greater part of their windows turned to the south, and are 
constructed in a low part of the city, where the adjoining build¬ 
ings served as a protection to them from the inconvenience of the 
northwest winds. 

Before concluding this account of the Stabian baths, we 
should mention that under the portico, near the entrance to the 
men’s baths, was found a sun-dial, consisting as usual of a half 
circle inscribed in a rectangle, and with the gnomon in perfect 
preservation. It was supported by lion’s feet and elegantly orna¬ 
mented. On its base was an Oscan inscription, which has b'een 
interpreted as follows by Minervini: Marius. Atinius, Marii fil- 
ius, quaestor, ex multatitia pecunia conventus decreto fieri man- 
davit. That is: the Quaestor M. Atinius, in accordance with a 
decree of the assembly, caused it to be made out of money levied 
by fines. The title of “ Quaestor ” seems to show that this in¬ 
scription must have been written after the occupation of Pompeii 
by the Romans, but at the same time at a period when the 
Oscan tongue continued to be generally spoken. The fines alluded 

to were probably levied for breaches of the rules to be observed 
in the palaestra. 


/ 



• 'N 

(Social *C[ame£ and JSport^. 

Jugglers of both sexes, either single or in gangs, were com¬ 
mon all over Greece putting up their booths, as Xenophon says, 
wherever money and silly people could be found. These fre¬ 
quently amused the guests at drinking feasts with their tricks. 
The reputation of this class of people was anything but above 
suspicion, as is proved by the verse of Manetho ( u Apotheles,” 
IV., 276), in which they are described as the u birds of the country, 
the foulest brood of the city.” Their tricks were innumerable, 
and outvied in boldness and ingenuity those of our conjurors, 
barring, of course such as are founded on the modern discoveries 
of natural science. Male and female jugglers jumped forwards 
and backwards over swords or tables; girls threw up and caught 
again a number of balls or hoops to the accompaniment of a 
musical instrument; others displayed an astounding skill with 
their feet and toes while standing on their hands. Rope-dancers 
performed the most dangerous dances and salti-mortcili. In Rome 
even elephants were trained to mount the rope. Flying-machines 
of a construction unknown to us are also mentioned, on which 
bold aeronauts traversed the air. Alkiphron tells a story about 
a peasant who, .on seeing a juggler pulling little bullets from the 
noses, ears, and heads of the spectators, exclaimed: “ Let such a 
beast never enter my yard, or else everything would soon disap¬ 
pear.” Descriptions of these tricks are frequent in ancient wri¬ 
ters, particularly in the indignant invectives of the early fathers 

*57 






AMUSEMENTS. 


158 

of the Church. Amongst the pictures of female jugglers in all 
kinds of impossible postures, can be seen a girl performing the 
dangerous sword-dance, described by Plato. It consists in her 
turning somersaults forwards and backwards across the points of 
three swords stuck in the ground. A similar picture we see on 
a vase of the Berlin Museum. Another vase shows a female jug¬ 
gler dressed in long drawers standing on her hands, and tilling 
with her feet a kantharos from a krater placed in front of her. 
She holds the handle of the kantharos with the toes of her left 
foot, while the toes of her other foot cling round the stem of the 
kyathos used for drawing the liquor. A woman sitting in front 
of her performs a game with three balls, in which the other artiste 
also seems to take a part. In another, a girl in a rather awkward 
position is shooting an arrow from a bow. 

Of social games played by the topers we mention, besides 
the complicated kottabos, the games played on a board or with 
dice. Homer already mentions a game of the former class, and 
names Palamedes as its inventor; of the exact nature of this £ame 
we know little or nothing. Neither are we informed of the de¬ 
tails of another kind of petteia played with five little stones on a 
board divided by five lines. 

The so-called “ game of cities ” seems to have resembled our 
chess or draughts. The board was divided into five parts. Each 
player tried to checkmate the other by the skillful use of his men. 
Games of hazard with dice and astragaloi were most likely 
greater favorites with the topers than the intellectual ones hitherto 
described. The number of dice was at first three, afterwards 
two; the figures on the parallel sides being 1 and 6, 2 and 5, 3 
and 4. In order to prevent cheating, they were cast from coni¬ 
cal beakers, the interior ot which was formed into different steps. 
Each cast had its name, sixty-four of which have been transmit¬ 
ted to us by the grammarians. The luckiest cast, each of the 
dice showing the figure 6, was called Aphrodite; the unluckiest, 


SOCIAL GAMES AND SPORTS. 


*59 


the three dice showing the figure i, had the names of “dog” or 
“wine” applied to it. 

Another game of a similar nature was played with the so- 
called astragaloi, dice of a lengthy shape made of the knuckles 
ol animals. Two of the surfaces were flat, the third being raised, 
and the fourth indented slightly. The last-mentioned side was 
marked i, and had, amongst many other names, that of “ dog;” 
the opposite surface, marked 6. The Latin names of the two 
other sides marked 3 and 4 were suppus and planus respectively. 
The figures 2 and 5 were wanting on the astragaloi, the narrow 
end-surfaces not being counted. The number of astragaloi used 
was always four, being the same as in the game of dice. Here 
also the luckiest cast was called Aphrodite, with which at the 
same time the honor of king-of-the-feast was connected. 

Young girls liked to play at a game with five astragaloi, or 
little stones, which were thrown into the air and caught on the 
upper surface of the hand. This game is still in use in many 
countries. • We possess many antique representations of these 
various games. 

Two vase paintings show soldiers playing at draughts. As¬ 
tragaloi and dice of different sizes, some with the figures as above 
described on them, others evidently counterfeited, are preserved 
in several museums. Of larger representations we mention the 
marble statue of a girl playing with astragaloi in the Berlin 
Museum, and a Pompeian wall-painting in which the children of 
Jason play the same game, while Medea threatens their lives 
with a drawn sword. The celebrated masterpiece of Polykletes, 
representing two boys playing with astragaloi, formerly in the 
palace of Titus in Rome, has unfortunately been lost. Another 
wall-painting shows in the foreground Aglaiaand Hileaira, daugh¬ 
ters of Niobe, kneeling and playing the same game. 

In connection with these social games we mention a few 
•other favorite amusements of the Greeks. The existence of cock- 


i6o 


AMUSEMENTS. 


fights is proved by vase-paintings, gems, and written evidence. 
It was a favorite pastime with both old and young. Themistokles, 
after his victory over the Persians, is said to have founded an an¬ 
nual entertainment ot cock-fights, which made both these and the 
fights of quails popular among the Greeks. The breeding of 
fighting-cocks was a matter of great importance, Rhodes, Chal- 
kis, and Media being particularly celebrated for their strong and 
laro-e cocks. In order to increase their fury, the animals were 
fed with garlic previous to the fight. Sharp metal spurs were at¬ 
tached to their legs, after which they were placed on a table with 
a raised border. Very large sums were frequently staked on 

them by owners and spectators. 

Here, again, we see antique customs reproduced by various 
modern nations. The Italian game of morra (il giuco alia 
morra or fare alia morra) was also known to the ancients. In 
it both players open their clenched right hands simultaneously 
with the speed of lightning, whereat each has to call out the 
number of fingers extended by the other. It is the same game 
which figured among Egyptian amusements. Mimetic dan¬ 
ces were another favorite amusement at symposia. They mostly 
represented mythological scenes. A few words about Greek 
dancing ought to be added. 

Homer mentions dancing as one of the chief delights of the 
feast; he also praises the artistic dances of the Phaiakian youths. 
This proves the esteem in which this art was held even at that 
early period. In the dances of the Phaiakai, all the young men 
performed a circular movement round a singer standing in the 
centre, or else two skilled dancers executed a pas de deux . 
PIomeEs words seem to indicate that the rhythmical motion was 
not limited to the legs, as in our modern dances, but extended to 
the upper part of the body and the arms. Perhaps the germs of 
mimetic art may be looked for in this dance. 

According to Lucian, the aim of the dance was to express 


SOCIAL GAMES AND SPORTS. 


161 


sentiment, passion, and action by means of gestures. It soon de¬ 
veloped into highest artistic beauty, combined with the rhythmic 
grace peculiar to the Greeks. Like the gymnastic and agonistic 
arts, the dance retained its original purity as long as public mor¬ 
ality prevailed in Greece: its connection with religious worship 
preserved it from neglect. Gradually, however, here also mechan¬ 
ical virtuosity began to supplant true artistic principles. 

The division ol dances according to their warlike or religious 
character seems objectionable, because all of them were origi¬ 
nally connected with religious worship. The distinction between 
warlike and peaceful dances is more appropriate. Among the 
warlike dances particularly adapted to the Doric character, was 
the oldest and that most in favor. It dates from mythical times. 
Pyrrhichos, either a Kretan or Spartan by birth, the Dioskuroi, 
also Pyrrhos, the son of Achilles, are mentioned as its originators. 
The Pyrrhic dance, performed by several men in armor, imitated 
the movements of attack and defence. The various positions were 
defined by rule; hands and arms played an important part in the 
mimetic action. It formed the chief feature of the Doric gym- 
nopaidia and of the greater and lesser Panathenaia at Athens. 
The value attached to it in the latter city is proved by the fact 
of the Athenians making Phrynichos commander-in-chief owing 
to the skill displayed by him in the Pyrrhic dance. 

Later a Bacchic element was introduced into this dance, 
which henceforth illustrated the deeds of Dionysos. A fragment 
of a marble frieze shows a satyr with a thyrsos and laurel crown 
performing a wild Bacchic dance between two soldiers, also exe¬ 
cuting; a dancing: movement; it most likely illustrates the Pyrrhic 
dance of a later epoch. 

Of other warlike dances we mention the kcirfcia, which 
rendered the surprise of a warrior plowing a field by robbers, 
and the scuffle between them. It was accompanied on the flute. 

More numerous, although less complicated, were the peace- 


i6z 


AMUSEMENTS. 





ful choral dances performed at the feasts of different gods, ac¬ 
cording to their individualities. With the exception of the Bacchic 
dances, they consisted of measured movements round the altar. 
More lively in character were the gymnopaidic dances performed 
by men and boys. They were, like most Spartan choral dances, 
renowned for their graceful rhythms. They consisted of an imi¬ 
tation of gymnastic exercises, particularly of the wrestling-match 
and the Pankration; in later times it was generally succeeded 
by the warlike Pyrrhic dance. 





















Social Entertainmente. 

We will now give some of the more domestic entertainments, 
such as parties or dinners, given by the Egyptians. In their en¬ 
tertainments they appear to have omitted nothing which could 
promote festivity and the amusement of the guests. Music, songs, 
dancing, buffoonery, feats of agility, or games of chance, were 
generally introduced; and they welcomed them with all the lux¬ 
uries which the cellar and the table could afford. 

The party, when invited to dinner, met about midday, and 
they arrived successively in their chariots, in palanquins borne by 
their servants, or on foot. Sometimes their attendants screened 
them from the sun by holding up a shield (as is still done in 
Southern Africa), or by some other contrivance; but the chariot 
of the king or of a princess, was often furnished with a large par¬ 
asol; and the flabella borne behind the king, which belonged ex¬ 
clusively to royalty, answered the same purpose. They were 
composed of feathers, and were not very unlike those carried on 
state occasions behind the Pope in modern Rome. Parasols or 
umbrellas were also used in Assyria, Persia, and other Eastern 
countries. 

When a visitor came in his car, he was attended by a num¬ 
ber of servants, some of whom carried a stool, to enable 
him to alight, and others his writing tablet, or whatever 
he might want during his stay at the house. The guests are as¬ 
sembled in a sitting room within, and are entertained with music 
during the interval preceding the announcement of dinner; for, 
like the Greeks, they considered it a want of good breeding to sit 

163 





164 


AMUSEMENTS. 


clown to table immediately on arriving, and, as Bdelycleon, in 
Aristophanes, recommended his father Philocleon to do, they 
praised the beauty of the rooms and the furniture, taking care to 
show particular interest in those objects which were intended for 
admiration. As usual in all countries, some of the party arrived 
earlier than others; and the consequence, or affectation of fashion, 
in the person who now drives up in his curricle, is shown by his 
coming some time after the rest of the company; one of his foot¬ 
men runs forward to knock at the door, others, close behind the 
chariot, are ready to take the reins, and to perform their accus¬ 
tomed duties; and the one holding his sandals in his hand, that 
he may run with greater ease, illustrates a custom, still common 
in Egypt, among the Arabs and peasants of the country, who find 
the power of the foot greater when freed from the encumbrance 
of a shoe. 

To those who arrived from a journey,.or who desired it, 
water was brought for their feet, previous to entering the festive 
chamber. They also washed their hands before dinner, the water 
being brought in the same manner as at the present day; and 
ewers, not unlike those used by the modern Egyptians, are repre¬ 
sented, with the basins belonging to them, in the paintings of a 
Theban tomb. In the houses ot the rich they were of gold, or 
other costly materials. Herodotus mentions the golden foot-pan, 
in which Amasis and his guests used to wash their feet. 

The Greeks had the same custom of bringing water to the 
guests, numerous instances of which we find in Homer; as when 
Telemachus and the son of Nestor were received at the house of 
Menelaus, and when Asphalion poured it upon the hands of his 
master, and the same guests, on another occasion. Virgil also 
describes the servants bringing water for this purpose when 
^Eneas was entertained by Dido. Nor was the ceremony thought 
superfluous, or declined, even though they had previously bathed 
and been anointed with oil. 


SOCIAL ENTERTAINMENTS. 165 

It is also probable that, like the Greeks, the Egyptians an¬ 
ointed themselves before they left home; but still it was custom¬ 
ary for a servant to attend every guest, as he seated himself, and 
to anoint his head; which was one of the principal tokens of wel¬ 
come. The ointment was sweet-scented, and was contained in 
an alabaster, or in an elegant glass or porcelain vase, some of 
which have been found in the tombs of Thebes. Servants took 
the sandals of the guests as they arrived, and either put them by 
in a convenient place in the house, or held them on their arm 
while they waited upon them. 

After the ceremony of anointing was over, and in some cases 
at the time of entering the saloon, a lotus flower was presented to 
each guest, who held it in his hand during the entertainment. 
Servants then brought necklaces of flowers, composed chiefly of 
the lotus; a garland was also put round the head, and a single 
lotus bud, or a full-blown flower, was so attached as to hang over 
the forehead. Many of them, made up into wreaths and other 
devices, were suspended upon stands in the room ready for imme¬ 
diate use; and servants were constantly employed to bring other 
fresh flowers from the garden, in order to supply the guests as 
their bouquets faded. 

The Greeks and Romans had the same custom of presenting 
guests with flowers or garlands, which were brought in at the 
beginning- of their entertainments, or before the second course. 
They not only adorned their heads , necks , and breasts , like the 
Egyptians, but often bestrewed the couches on which they lay, 
and all parts of the room, with flowers; though the head was 
chiefly regarded, as appears from Horace, Anacreon, Ovid, and 
other ancient authors. The wine-bowl, too, was crowned with 
flowers, as at an Egyptian banquet. They also perfumed the 
apartment with myrrh, frankincense, and other choice odors, 
which they obtained from Syria; and if the sculptures do not give 
any direct representation of this practice among the Egyptians, 


AMUSEMENTS. 


166 

we know it to have been adopted and deemed indispensable among 
them; and a striking instanee is recorded by Plutarch, at the re¬ 
ception of Agesilaus by Tachos. A sumptuous dinner was pre¬ 
pared for the Spartan prince, consisting, as usual, ot beet, goose, 
and other Egyptian dishes; he was crowned with garlands of 
papyrus, and received with every token ot welcome; but when 
he refused “ the sweatmeats, confections, and perfumes,” the 
Egyptians held him in great contempt, as a person unaccustomed 
to, and unworthy of, the manners ot civilized society. 

The Greeks, and other ancient people, usually put on a par¬ 
ticular garment at festive meetings, generally of a white color; 
but it does not appear to have been customary with the Egyptians 
to make any great alteration in their attire, though they evidently 
abstained from dresses of a gloomy hue. 

The guests being seated, and having received these tokens 
of welcome, wine was offered them by the servants. To the la¬ 
dies it was generally brought in a small vase, which, when emptied 
into the drinking-cup, was handed to an under servant, or slave, 
who followed; but to the men it was frequently presented in a 
one-handled goblet, without being poured into any cup, and some¬ 
times in a larger or small vase of gold, silver, or other materials. 

Herodotus and Hellanicus both say that they drank wine out 
of brass or bronze goblets; and, indeed, the former affirms that 
this was the only kind of drinking-cup known to the Egyptians; 
but Joseph had one of silver, and the sculptures represent them 
of glass and porcelain, as well as of gold, silver and bronze. 
Those who could not afford the more costly kind were satisfied 
with a cheaper quality, and many were contented with cups of 
common earthenware; but the wealthy Egyptians used vases of 
glass, porcelain, and the precious metals, for numerous purposes, 
both in their houses and in the temples of the gods. 

I he practice ot introducing wine at the commencement of an 
entertainment, or before dinner had been served up, was not pe- 


CHARACTERISTICS OF THE DANCE. 


l6y 

cull<n to this people, and the Chinese, to the present day, ofler it 
at their paities to all the guests, as they arrive, in the same man¬ 
ner as the ancient Egyptians. They also drank wine during the 
repast, perhaps to the health of one another or of an absent friend, 
like the Romans; and no doubt the master of the house, or “ the 
ruler of the feast,” recommended a choice wine, and pledged 
them to the cup. 

While dinner was preparing the party was enlivened by the 
sound of music; and a band, consisting of the harp, lyre, guitar , 
tambourine, double and single pipe, flute and other instruments, 
played the favorite airs and songs of the country. Nor was it 
deemed unbecoming the gravity and dignity of a priest to admit 
musicians into his house, or to take pleasure in witnessing the 
dance; and seated with their wives and family in the midst of 
their friends, the highest functionaries of the sacerdotal order en¬ 
joyed the lively scene. In the same manner, at a Greek enter¬ 
tainment, diversions of all kinds were introduced; and Xenophon 
and Plato inform us that Socrates, the wisest of men, amused his 
friends with music, jugglers, mimics, bufloons, and whatever 
could be desired for exciting cheerfulness and mirth. 

The dance consisted mostly of a succession of figures, in 
which the performers endeavored to exhibit a great variety of 
gesture; men and women danced at the same time, or in separate 
parties, but the latter were generally preferred, from their su¬ 
perior grace and elegance. Some danced to slow airs, adapted 
to the style of their movement ; the attitudes they assumed fre¬ 
quently partook of a grace not unworthy of the Greeks; and 
others preferred a lively step, regulated by an appropriate tune. 
Men sometimes danced with great spirit, bounding from the 
ground more in the manner of Europeans than of an Eastern 
people; on which occasions the music was not always composed 
of many instruments, but consisted only of crotala or maces, a 


AMUSEMENTS. 


168 

man clapping his hand, and a woman snapping her lingers to 
the time. 

Graceful attitudes and gesticulation were the general style of 
their dance; but, as in other countries, the taste of the perform¬ 
ance varied according to the rank ol the person by whom they 
were employed, or their own skill; and the dance at the house of 
a priest differed from that among the uncouth peasantry, or the 
lower classes of townsmen. 

It was not customary for the upper orders ol Egyptians to 
indulge in this amusement, either in public or private assemblies, 
and none appear to have practiced it but the lower ranks ol so¬ 
ciety, and those who gained their livelihood by attending festive 
meetings. The Greeks, however, though they employed women 
who professed music and dancing, to entertain the guests, looked 
upon the dance as a recreation in which all classes might indulge, 
and an accomplishment becoming a gentleman; and it was also 
a Jewish custom for young ladies to dance at private entertain¬ 
ments, as it still is at Damascus and other Eastern towns. 

The Romans, on the contrary, were far from considering it 
worthy of a man of rank, or of a sensible person; and Cicero 
says: u No man who is sober dances, unless he is out of his 
mind, either 'when alone , or in any decent society; for dancing is 
the companion of wanton conviviality, dissoluteness, and luxury.” 

Nor did the Greeks indulge in it to excess; and effeminate 
dances, or extraordinary gesticulation, were deemed indecent in 
men of character and wisdom. Indeed, Herodotus tells a story 
of Hippoclides, the Athenian, who had been preferred before all 
the nobles of Greece, as a husband for the daughter of Clisthenes, 
king ol Argos, having been rejected on account of his extrava¬ 
gant gestures in the dance. 

Of all the Greeks, the Ionians were most noted for their 
fondness of this art; and, from the wanton and indecent tendency 
of their songs and gestures, dances of a voluptuous character 


GRACE AND DRESS OF THE DANCERS. 169 

(like those of the modern Almehs of the East) were styled by the 
Romans “ Ionic movements.” Moderate dancing was even deemed 
worthy of the gods themselves. Jupiter, “the father of gods and 
men,” is represented dancing in the midst of the other deities; 
and Apollo is not only introduced by Homer thus engaged, but 
received the title ot u the dancer,” from his supposed excellence 
in the art. 

Grace in posture and movement was the chief object of those 
employed at the assemblies of the rich Egyptians; and the ridic¬ 
ulous gestures of the buffoon were permitted there, so long as 
they did not transgress the rules of decency and moderation. 
Music was always indispensable, whether at the festive meetings 
of the rich or poor; and they danced to the sound of the harp, 
lyre, guitar, pipe, tambourine, and other instruments, and, in the 
streets, even to the drum. 

Many of their postures resembled those of the modern ballet, 
and the ■pirouette delighted an Egyptian party four thousand years 
ago. 

The dresses of the female dancers were light, and of the 
finest texture, showing, by their transparent quality, the forms 
and movement of the limbs; they generally consisted of a loose 
flowing robe, reaching to the ankles, occasionally fastened tight 
at the waist; and round the hips was a small narrow girdle, 
adorned with beads, or ornaments of various colors. Sometimes 
the dancing figures appear to have been perfectly naked ; but 
this is from the outline of the transparent robe having been 
effaced; and, like the Greeks, they represented the contour of the 
figure as if seen through the dress. 

Slaves were taught dancing as well as music; and in the 
houses of the rich, besides their other occupations, that of dancing 
to entertain the family, or a party of friends, was required ol 
them; and free Egyptians also gained a livelihood by their per¬ 
formances. 


AMUSEMENTS. 


I 70 

While the party was amused with music and dancing, and 
the late arrivals were successively announced, refreshments con¬ 
tinued to be handed round, and every attention was shown to the 
assembled guests. Wine was offered to each new comer, and 
chaplets of flowers were brought by men servants to the gentle¬ 
men, and by women or white slaves to the ladies, as they took 
their seats. An upper servant, or slave, had the office of hand¬ 
ing the wine, and a black woman sometimes followed, in an in¬ 
ferior capacity, to receive an empty cup when the wine had been 
poured into the goblet. The same black slave also carried the 
fruits and other refreshments; and the peculiar mode of holding 
a plate with the hand reversed, so generally adopted by women 
from Africa, is characteristically shown in the Theban paintings. 

To each person after drinking a napkin was presented for 
wiping the mouth, answering to the mahrama of the modern 
Egyptians; and the bearer of it uttered a complimentary senti¬ 
ment, when she offered it and received back the goblet: as, 
“ May it benefit you!” and no oriental at the present day drinks 
water without receiving a similar wish. But it was not considered 
rude to refuse wine when offered, even though it had been poured 
out; and a teetotaller might continue smelling a lotus without 
any affront. 

Men and women either sat together, or separately, in a dif¬ 
ferent part of the room; but no rigid mistrust prevented strangers, 
as well as members of the family, being received into the same 
society; which shows how greatly the Egyptians were advanced 
in the habits of social life. In this they, like the Romans, dif¬ 
fered widely from the Greeks, and might say with Cornelius 
Nepos, u Which of us is ashamed to bring his wife to an en¬ 
tertainment ? and what mistress of a family can be shown who 
does not inhabit the chief and most frequented part of the house? 
Whereas in Greece she never appears at any entertainments, ex¬ 
cept those to which relations alone are invited, and constantly 


POSITION AT THE TABLE. 


i 7 i 

lives in the women’s apartments at the upper part of the house, 
into which no man has admission, unless he be a near relation.” 
Nor were married people afraid of sitting together, and no idea 
of their having had too much of each other’s company made it 
necessary to divide them. In short, they were the most Darby 
and Joan people possible, and they shared the same chair at 
home, at a party, and even in their tomb, where sculpture grouped 
them together. 

The master and mistress of the house accordingly sat side by 
side on a large fauteuil, and each guest as he arrived walked up 
to receive their welcome. The musicians and dancers hired for 
the occasion also did obeisance to them, before they began their 
part. To the leg of the fauteuil was tied a favorite monkey, a 
dog, a gazelle, or some other pet; and a young child was per¬ 
mitted to sit on the ground at the side of its mother, or on its 
father’s knee. 

In the meantime the conversation became animated, especial¬ 
ly in those parts of the room where the ladies sat together, and 
the numerous subjects that occurred to them were fluently dis¬ 
cussed. Among these the question of dress was not forgotten, 
and the patterns, or the value of trinkets, were examined with 
proportionate interest. The maker of an ear-ring, and the store 
where it was purchased, were anxiously inquired; each compared 
the workmanship, the style, and the materials of those she wore, 
coveted her neighbor’s, or preferred her own; and women of every 
class vied with each other in the display of “jewels of silver 
and jewels of gold,” in the texture of their “ raiment,” the neat¬ 
ness of their sandals, and the arrangement or beauty of their 
plaited hair. 

It was considered a pretty compliment to offer each other a 
flower from their own bouquet, and all the vivacity of the Egyp¬ 
tians was called forth as they sat together. The hosts omitted 
nothing that could make their party pass off pleasantly, and keep 


172 


AMUSEMENTS. 


up agreeable conversation, which was with them the great charm 
of accomplished society, as with the Greeks, who thought it 
u more requisite and becoming to gratify the company by cheer¬ 
ful conversation, than with variety of dishes.” The guests, too, 
neglected no opportunity of showing how much they enjoyed 
themselves; and as they drew each other’s attention to the many 
nick-nacks that adorned the rooms, paid a well-turned compli¬ 
ment to the taste of the owner of the house. They admired the 
vases, the carved boxes of wood or ivory, and the light tables on 
which many a curious trinket was displayed; and commended 
the elegance and comfort of the luxurious fauteuils, the rich 
cushions and coverings of the couches and ottomans, the carpets 
and the other furniture. Some, who were invited to see the 
sleeping apartments, found in the ornaments on the toilet-tables, 
and in the general arrangements, fresh subjects for admiration; 
and their return to the guest-chamber gave an opportunity of 
declaring that good taste prevailed throughout the whole house. 
On one occasion, while some of the delighted guests were in these 
raptures of admiration, and others were busied with the chitchat, 
perhaps the politics, or the scandal of the day, an awkward 
youth, either from inadvertence, or a little too much wine, re¬ 
clined against a wooden column placed in the centre of the room 
to support some temporary ornament, and threw it down upon 
those who sat beneath it.* The confusion was great: the women 
screamed; and some, with uplifted hands, endeavored to protect 
their heads and escape its fall. No one, however, seems to have 
been hurt; and the harmony of the party being restored, the inci¬ 
dent afforded fresh matter for conversation; to be related in full 
detail to their friends, when they returned home. 

The vases were very numerous, and varied in shape, size, 
and materials; being of hard stone, alabaster, glass, ivory, bone, 
porcelain, bronze, brass, silver, or gold; and those of the poorer 

* We regret having lost the copy of this amusing subject. It was in a tomb at Thebes. 


VASES AND ORNAMENTS. 


1 73 


classes were of glazed pottery, or common earthenware. Many 
ot then ornamental vases, as well as those in ordinary use, were 
ol the most elegant shape, which would do honor to the Greeks, 
the Egyptians frequently displaying in these objects of private 
luxe the taste of a highly refined people; and so strong a resem¬ 
blance did they bear to the productions of the best epochs of an¬ 
cient Gieece, both in their shape and in the fancy devices upon 
them, that some might even suppose them borrowed from Greek 
patterns. But they were purely Egyptian, and had been univer- 



EGYPTIAN VASES. 

sally adopted in the valley of the Nile, long before the graceful 
forms we admire were known in Greece; a fact invariably ac¬ 
knowledged by those who are acquainted with the remote age of 
Egyptian monuments, and of the paintings that represent them. 

For some of the most elegant date in the early age of the 
third Thothmes, who lived between 3,300 and 3,400 years 
before our time; and we not only admire their forms, but the 
richness of the materials of which they were made, their color, as 
well as the hieroglyphics, showing them to have been of gold and 
silver, or of this last, inlaid with the more precious metal. 

Those of bronze, alabaster, glass, porcelain, and even of or¬ 
dinary pottery, were also deserving of admiration, from the beaut}” 
of their shapes, the designs which ornamented them, and the 
superior quality of the material; and gold and silver cups were 



































1 74 


AMUSEMENTS. 


often beautifully engraved, and studded with precious stones. 
Among these we readily distinguish the green emerald, the pur¬ 
ple amethyst, and other gems; and when an animal’s head adorned 
their handles, the eyes were frequently composed of them, 
except when enamel, or some colored composition, was employed 

as a substitute. 

While the guests were entertained with music and the dance 
dinner was prepared; but as it consisted of a considei able number 
of dishes, and the meat was killed for the occasion, as at the pres¬ 
ent day in Eastern and tropical climates, some time elapsed before 
it was put upon table. An ox, kid, wild goat, gazelle or an oryx, 
and a quantity ot geese, ducks, teal, quails and other birds, were 
generally selected; but mutton was excluded from a r I heban 
table. Plutarch even states that “ no Egyptians would eat the 
flesh of sheep, except the Lycopolites,” who did so out of compli¬ 
ment to the wolves they venerated; and Strabo-confines the sac- 
crifice of them to the Nome of Nitriotis. But though sheep were 
not killed for the altar or the table, they abounded in Egypt and 
even at Thebes; and large flocks were kept for their wool, par¬ 
ticularly in the neighborhood of Memphis. Sometimes a flock 
consisted of more than 2,000; and in a tomb below the Pyramids, 
dating upwards of 4,000 years ago, 974 rams are brought to be 
registered by his scribes, as part of the stock of the deceased; 
implying an equal number of ewes, independent of lambs. 

A considerable quantity of meat was served up at those re¬ 
pasts, to which strangers were invited, as among people of the 
East at the present day; whose azoonia , or feast, prides itself in 
the quantity and variety of dishes, in the unsparing profusion of 
viands, and, whenever wine is permitted, in the freedom of the 
bowl. An endless succession of vegetables was also required on 
all occasions; and, when dining in private, dishes composed chiefly 
of them were in greater request than joints, even at the tables of 
the rich; and consequently the Israelites, who, by their long resi- 



FOOD AND VEGETABLES. 


T 75 


dence there, had acquired similar habits, regretted them equally 
with the meat and hsh of Egypt. 

Their mode of dining was very similar to that now adopted 
in Cairo and throughout the East; each person sitting round a 
table, and dipping his bread into a dish placed in the centre, re¬ 
moved on a sign made by the host, and succeeded by others, 
whose rotation depends on established rule, and whose number is 
predetermined according to the size of the party, or the quality 
of the guests. 

Among the lower orders, vegetables constituted a very great 
part of their ordinary food, and they gladly availed themselves of 
the variety and abundance of esculent roots growing spontane¬ 
ously, in the lands irrigated by the rising Nile, as soon as its 
waters had subsided; some of which were eaten in a crude state, 
and others roasted in the ashes, boiled or stewed: their chief ali¬ 
ment, and that of their children, consisting of milk and cheese, 
roots, leguminous, cucurbitaceous and other plants, and the ordi¬ 
nary fruits of the country. Herodotus describes the food of the 
workmen who built the Pyramids, to have been the “ raphanus , 
onions and garlic;” the first of which, now called figl, is like a 
turnip-radish in flavor; but he has omitted one more vegetable, 
lentils, which were always, as at the present day, the chief arti¬ 
cle of their diet; and which Strabo very properly adds to the 
number. 

The nummulite rock, in the vicinity of those monuments, 
frequently presents a conglomerate of testacea imbedded in it, 
which, in some positions, resemble small seeds; and Strabo imag¬ 
ines they were the petrified residue of the lentils brought there 
by the workmen, from their having been the ordinary food ol the 
laboring classes, and ot all the lower orders ot Egyptians. 

Much attention was bestowed on the culture of this useful 
pulse, and certain varieties became remarkable for.their excel¬ 
lence, the lentils of Pelusium being esteemed both in Egypt and 
in foreign countries. 


I 7 6 AMUSEMENTS. 

I 

That dinner was served up at mid-day, may be inferred from 
the invitation given by Joseph to his brethren; but it is probable 
that, like the Romans, they also ate supper in the evening, as is 
still the custom in the East. The table was much the same as 
that of the present day in Egypt: a small stool, supporting a 
round tray, on which the dishes are placed; but it differed from 
this in having its circular summit fixed on a pillar, or leg, which 
was often in the form of a man, generally a captive, who sup¬ 
ported the slab upon his head; the whole being of stone, or some 
hard wood. On this the dishes were placed, together with loaves 
of bread, some of which were not unlike those of the present day 
in Egypt, flat and round as our crumpets. Others had the form 
of rolls or cakes, sprinkled with seeds. 

It was not generally covered with any linen, but, like the 
Greek table, was washed with a sponge, or napkin, after the 
dishes were removed, and polished by the servants, when the 
company had retired; though an instance sometimes occurs of a 
napkin spread on it, at least on those which bore offerings in 
honor of the dead. 

One or two guests generally sat at a table, though from the 
mention of persons seated in rows according to rank, it has been 
supposed the tables were occasionally of a long shape, as may 
have been the case when the brethren of Joseph “sat before 
him, the first born according to his birth-right, and the youngest 
according to his youth,” Joseph eating alone at another table 
where “they set on for him by himself.” But even if round, 
they might still sit according to rank; one place being always 
the post of honor, even at the present day, at the round table of 
Egypt. 

In the houses of the rich, bread was made of wheat; the 
poorer classes being contented with bakes of barley, or of doora 
(holcus sorghum), which last is still so commonly used by them; 
for Herodotus is as wrong in saying that they thought it “ the 


MODE OF EATING. 


l 77 


greatest disgrace to live on wheat and barley,” as that “ no one 
drank out of any but bronze (or brazen) cups.” The drinking 
cups of the Egyptians not only varied in their materials, but 
also in their forms. Some were plain and unornamented; others, 
though of small dimensions, were made after the models of larger 
vases; many were like our own cups without handles ; and 
others may come under the denomination of beakers, and saucers. 
Of these the former were frequently made of alabaster, with a 
round base, so that they could not stand when filled, and were 
held in the hand, or, when empty, were turned downwards upon 
their rim: and the saucers, which were of glazed pottery, had 
sometimes lotus blossoms, or fish, represented on their concave 
surface. 

The tables, as at a Roman repast, were occasionally brought 
in, and removed, with the dishes on them; sometimes each joint 
was served up separately, and the fruit, deposited in a plate or 
trencher, succeeded the meat at the close of the dinner; but in 
less fashionable circles, particularly of the olden time, fruit was 
brought in baskets, which stood beside the table. The dishes 
consisted of fish; meat boiled, roasted, and dressed in various 
ways; game, poultry, and a profusion of vegetables and fruit, 
particularly figs and grapes, during the season; and a soup, or 
“ pottage of lentils,” as with the modern Egyptians, was not an 
unusual dish. 

Of figs and grapes they were particularly fond, which is shown 
by their constant introduction, even among the choice offerings 
presented to the gods; and figs of the sycamore must have been 
highly esteemed, since they were selected as the heavenly fruit, 
given by the goddess Netpe to those who were judged worthy 
of admission to the regions of eternal happiness. Fresh dates 
during the season, and in a dried state at other periods of the 
year, were also brought to table, as well as a preserve of the 




12 


AMUSEMENTS. 


I 78 

fruit, made into a cake of the same form as the tamarinds now 
brought from the interior of Africa, and sold in the Cairo market. 

The guests sat on the ground, or on stools and chairs, and,, 
having neither knives and forks, nor any substitute for them an¬ 
swering to the chop-sticks of the Chinese, they ate with their 
fingers, like the modern Asiatics, and invariably with the right 
hand; nor did the Jews and Etruscans, though they had forks 
for other purposes, use any at table. 

Spoons were introduced when required for soup, or other 
liquids; and, perhaps, even a knife was employed on some occa¬ 
sions, to facilitate the carving of a large joint, which is some¬ 
times done in the East at the present day. 

The Egyptians washed after, as well as before, dinner ; an 
invariable custom throughout the East, as among the Greeks, 
Romans, Hebrews, and others; and Herodotus speaks of a golden 
basin, belonging to Amasis, which was used by the King, and 
a the guests who were in the habit of eating at his table.” 

An absorbent seems also to have been adopted for scouring 
the hands; and a powder of ground lupins, the doqaq of modern 
Eg ypt, is no doubt an old invention, handed down to the present 
inhabitants. 

Soap was not unknown to the ancients, and a small quantity 
has been found at Pompeii. Pliny, who mentions it as an inven¬ 
tion of the Gauls, says it was made of fat and ashes; and Are- 
tseus, the physician of Cappadocia, tells us, that the Greeks 
borrowed their knowledge of its medicinal properties from the 
Romans. But there is no evidence of soap having been used by 
the Egyptians; and if by accident they discovered something of 
the kind, while engaged with mixtures of natron or potash, and 
other ingredients, it is probable that it was only an absorbent, 
without oil or grease, and on a par with steatite, or the argil¬ 
laceous earths, with which, no doubt, they were long acquainted. 

The Egyptians, a scrupulously religious people, were never 


REMINDERS OF MORTALITY. 


l 79 


remiss in expressing their gratitude for the blessings they en¬ 
joyed, and in returning thanks to the gods for that peculiar pro¬ 
tection they were thought to extend to them and to their country, 
above all the nations of the earth. 

They, therefore, never sat down to meals without saying 
grace; and Josephus says that when the seventy-two elders were 
invited by Ptolemy Philadelphus to sup at the palace, Nicanor 
requested Eleazer to say grace for his countrymen, instead of 
those Egyptians to whom that duty was committed on other oc¬ 
casions. 

It was also a custom of the Egyptians, during or after their 
repasts, to introduce a wooden image of Osiris, from one foot and 
a half to three feet in height, in the form of a human mummy, 
standing erect, or lying on a bier, and to show it to each of the 
guests, warning him of his mortality, and the transitory nature 
of human pleasures. He was reminded that some day he would 
be like that figure; that men ought “to love one another, and 
avoid those evils which tend to make them consider life too long, 
when in reality it is too short;’ 1 and while enjoying the blessings 
of this world, to bear in mind that their existence was precarious, 
and that death, which all ought to be prepared to meet, must 
eventually close their earthly career. 

Thus, while the guests were permitted, and .even encouraged, 
to indulge in conviviality, the pleasures of the table, and the mirth 
so congenial to their lively disposition, they were exhorted to put 
a certain degree of restraint upon their conduct; and though this 
sentiment was perverted by other people, and used as an incentive 
to present excesses, it was perfectly consistent with the ideas of 
the Egyptians to be reminded that this life was only a lodging, 
or “ inn ” on their way, and that their existence here was the 
preparation for a future* state. 

“ The ungodly,” too, of Solomon’s time, thus expressed 
themselves: “ Our life is short and tedious, and in the death of a 


i8o 


AMUSEMENTS. 


man there is no remedy; neither was there any man known to 
have returned from the grave. For we are born at all adventure, 
and we shall be hereafter as though we had never been, 
come on, therefore, let us enjoy the good things that are present, 
let us fill ourselves with costly wine and ointments; 
and let no flower of the spring pass by us; let us crown ourselves 
with rosebuds, before they be withered; let none of us go with¬ 
out his part of our voluptuousness; let us leave tokens of our 
joyfulness in every placed 1 

But even if the Egyptians, like other men, neglected a good 
warning, the original object of it was praiseworthy; and Plutarch 
expressly states that it was intended to convey a moral lesson. 
The idea of death had nothing revolting to them; and so little 
did the Egyptians object to have it brought before them, that they 
even introduced the mummy of a deceased relative at their 
parties, and placed it at table, as one of the guests; a fact which 
is recorded by Lucian, in his u Essay on Grief,” and of which he 
declares himself to have been an eye-witness. 

After dinner, music and singing were resumed; hired men 
and women displayed feats of agility; swinging each other round 
by the hand; throwing up and catching the ball; or flinging them¬ 
selves round backwards head-over-heels, in imitation of a wheel ; 
which was usually a performance of women. They also stood on 
each other’s backs, and made a somersault from that position; and 
a necklace, or other reward, was given to the most successful 
tumbler. 























J^QYPTIAjM ; jVlu$IC AND JjNTERTAINJVIENTg. 


Though impossible for us now to form any notion of the 
character or style ol Egyptian music, we may be allowed to con¬ 
jecture that it was studied on scientific principles; and, whatever 
delects existed in the skill of ordinary performers, who gained 
their livelihood by playing in public, or for the entertainment of 
a private party, music was looked upon as an important science, 
and diligently studied by the priests themselves. According to 
Diodorus it was not customary to make music part of their edu¬ 
cation, being deemed useless and even injurious, as tending to 
render the minds of men effeminate; but this remark can only 
apply to the custom of studying it as an amusement. Plato, who 
was well acquainted with the usages of the Egyptians, says that 
they considered music of the greatest consequence, from its bene¬ 
ficial elfects upon the mind of youth; and according to Strabo, 
the children of the Egyptians were taught letters, the songs ap¬ 
pointed by law, and a certain kind of music, established by gov¬ 
ernment. 

That the Egyptians were particularly fond of music is abun¬ 
dantly proved by the paintings in their tombs of the earliest times; 
and we even find they introduced figures performing on the fav¬ 
orite instruments ol the country, among the devices with which 
they adorned fancy boxes or trinkets. The skill ol the Egyptians 
in the use of musical instruments is also noticed by Athenaeus, 
who says that both the Greeks and barbarians were taught by 

181 











182 


AMUSEMENTS. 


refugees from Egypt, and that the Alexandrians were the most 
scientific and skillful players on pipes and other instruments. 

It is sufficiently evident, from the sculptures of the ancient 
Egyptians, that their hired musicians were acquainted with the 
triple symphony: the harmony of instruments; of voices; and of 
voices and instruments. Their band was variously composed, 
consisting either of two harps, with the single pipe and flute; of 
the harp and double pipe, frequently with the addition of the 
guitar; of a fourteen-stringed harp, a guitar, lyre, double pipe, 
and tambourine; of two harps, sometimes of different sizes, one 
of seven, the other of four, strings; of two harps of eight chords, 
and a seven-stringed lyre; of the guitar and the square or oblong 
tambourine; of the lyre, harp, guitar, double pipe, and a sort of 
harp with four strings, which was held upon the shoulder; of the 
harp, guitar, double pipe, lyre, and square tambourine; of the 
harp, two guitars, and the double pipe; of the harp, two flutes, 
and a guitar; of two harps and a flute; of a seventeen-stringed 
lyre, the double pipe, and a harp of fourteen chords; of the harp 
and two guitars; or of two seven-stringed harps and an instru¬ 
ment held in the hand, not unlike an eastern fan, to which were 
probably attached small bells, or pieces of metal that emitted a 
jingling sound when shaken, like the crescent-crowned bells of 
our modern bands. There were many other combinations of 
these various instruments; and in the Bacchic festival of Ptolemy 
Philadelphus, described by Athenseus, more than 600 musicians 
were employed in the chorus, among whom were 300 performers 
on the cithara . 

Sometimes the harp was played alone, or as an accompani¬ 
ment to the \ oice, and a band of seven or more choristers fre¬ 
quently sang to it a favorite air, beating time with their hands 
between each stanza. They also sang to other instruments, as 
the lyre, guitar or double pipe; or to several of them played to¬ 
gether, as the flute and one 01 more harps; or to these last with 





MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. 


I8 3 


a lyre or a guitar. It was not unusual for one man or one woman 
to perform a solo; and a chorus of many persons occasionally 
sang at a private assembly without any instrument, two or three 
beating time at intervals with the hand. Sometimes the band of 
choristers consisted of more than twenty persons, only two of 
whom responded by clapping their hands; and in one instance we 
have seen a female represented holding what was perhaps another 
kind of jingling instrument. 

The custom of beating tiiye by clapping the hands between 
the stanzas is still usual in Egypt. 

On some occasions women beat the tambourine and dara- 
bookci drum, without the addition of any other instrument; danc¬ 
ing or singing to the sound; and bearing palm branches or green 
twigs in their hands, they proceeded to the tomb of a deceased 
friend, accompanied by this species of music. The same custom 
may still be traced in the Friday visit to the cemetery, and in 
some other funeral ceremonies among the Moslem peasants of 
modern Egypt. 

If it was not customary for the higher classes of Egyptians 
to learn music for the purpose of playing in society, and if few 
amateur performers could be found among persons of rank, still 
some general knowledge of the art must have been acquired by 
a people so alive to its charms; and the attention paid to it by 
the priests regulated the taste, and prevented the introduction of 
a vitiated style. 

Those who played at the houses of the rich, as well as the 
ambulant musicians of the streets, were of the lower classes, and 
made this employment the means of obtaining their livelihood; 
and in many instances both the minstrels and the choristers were 
blind. 

It was not so necessary an accomplishment for the higher 
classes of Egyptians as of the Greeks, who, as Cicero says, “con¬ 
sidered the arts of singing and playing upon musical instruments 


184 


AMUSEMENTS. 


a very principal part of learning; whence it is related oi Epa- 
minondas, who, in my judgment, was the first of all the Greeks, 
that he played very well upon the flute. And, some time before, 
Themistocles, upon refusing the harp at an entertainment, passed 
for an uninstructed and ill-bred person. Hence, Greece became 
celebrated for skillful musicians; and as all persons there learned 
music, those who attained to no proficiency in it were thought 
uneducated and unaccomplished.” 

Cornelius Nepos also states that Epaminondas “ played the 
harp and flute, and perfectly understood the art of dancing, with 
other liberal sciences,” which, u though trivial things in the opinion 
of the Romans, were reckoned highly commendable in Greece.” 

The Israelites also delighted in music and the dance; and 

« 

persons of rank deemed them a necessary part of their education.. 
Like the Egyptians with whom they had so long resided, the 
Jews carefully distinguished sacred from profane music. They 
introduced it at public and private rejoicings, at funerals, and in 
religious services; but the character of the airs, like the words 
of their songs, varied according to the occasion; and they had 
canticles of mirth, of praise, of thanksgiving, and of lamentation. 
Some were epithalamia , or songs composed to celebrate mar¬ 
riages; others to commemorate a victory, or the accession of a 
prince; to return thanks to the Deity, or to celebrate his praises; 
to lament a general calamity, or a private affliction; and others,, 
again, were peculiar to their festive meetings. On these occa¬ 
sions they introduced the harp, lute, tabret, and various instru¬ 
ments, together with songs and dancing, and the guests were 
entertained nearly in the same manner as at an Egyptian feast. 
In the temple, and in the religious ceremonies, the Jews had fe¬ 
male as well as male performers, who were generally daughters 
of the Levites, as the Pallaces of Thebes were either of the royal 
family, or the daughters of priests; and these musicians were at¬ 
tached exclusively to the service of religion. 




JEWISH MUSIC. 


David was not only remarkable for his taste and skill in 
music, but took a delight in introducing it on every occasion. 
“ And seeing that the Levites were numerous, and no longer em¬ 
ployed as formerly in carrying the boards, veils, and vessels of 
the tabernacle, its abode being fixed at Jerusalem, he appointed 
a great part of them to sing and play on instruments, at the re¬ 
ligious festivals A 

Solomon, again, at the dedication of the temple, employed 
“ 120 priests, to sound with trumpets;’ 1 and Josephus pretends 
that no less than 200,000 musicians were present at that cere- 
mony, besides the same number of singers, who were Levites. 

When hired to attend at a private entertainment, the musi¬ 
cians either stood in the centre, or at one side, of the festive 
chamber, and some sat cross-legged on the ground, like the Turks 
and other Eastern people of the present day. They were usually 
accompanied on these occasions by dancers, either men or women, 
sometimes both; whose art consisted in assuming all the graceful 
or ludicrous gestures, which could obtain the applause, or tend to 
the amusement, of the assembled guests. For music and dancing 
were considered as essential at their entertainments, as among 
the Greeks; but it is by no means certain that these diversions 
counteracted the effect of wine, as Plutarch imagines; a sprightly 
air is more likely to have invited another glass; and sobriety at a 
feast was not one of the objects of the lively Egyptians. 

They indulged freely in whatever tended to increase their 
enjoyment, and wine flowed freely at their entertainments. 

Private individuals were under no particular restrictions with 
regard to its use, and it was not forbidden to women. In this 
they differed widely from the Romans; for in early times no fe¬ 
male at Rome enjoyed the privilege, and it was unlawful for 
women, or, indeed, for young men below the age of thirty, to 
drink wine, except at sacrifices. 

Even at a later time the Romans considered it disgraceful 


i86 


AMUSEMENTS. 


for a woman to drink wine; and they sometimes saluted a female 
relation, whom they suspected, in order to discover if she had 
secretly indulged in its use. It was afterwards allowed them on 
the plea of health. 

That Egyptian women were not forbidden the use of wine, is 
evident from the frescoes which represent their feasts; and the 
painters, in illustrating this fact, have sometimes sacrificed their 
gallantry to a love of caricature. Some call the servants to sup¬ 
port them as they sit, others with difficulty prevent themselves 
from falling on those behind them; a basin is brought too late by 
a reluctant servant, and the faded flower, which is ready to drop 
from their heated hands, is intended to be characteristic of their 
own sensations. 

i 

That the consumption of wine in Egypt was very great is 
evident from the sculptures, and from the accounts of ancient 
authors, some of whom have censured the Egyptians for their 
excesses; and so much did the quantity used exceed that made 
in the country, that, in the time of Herodotus, twice every year a 
large importation was received from Phoenicia and Greece. 

Notwithstanding all the injunctions or exhortations of the 
priests in favor of temperance, the Egyptians of both sexes ap¬ 
pear from the sculptures to have committed occasional excesses, 
and men were sometimes unable to walk from a feast, and were 
carried home by servants. These scenes, however, do not appear 
to refer to members of the higher, but of the lower, classes, some 
of whom indulged in extravagant buffoonery, dancing in a ludi¬ 
crous manner, or standing on their heads, and frequently in 
amusements which terminated in a fight. 

At the tables of the rich, stimulants were sometimes intro¬ 
duced, to excite the palate before drinking, and Athenseus men¬ 
tions cabbages as one of the vegetables used by the Egyptians for 
this purpose. 

Besides beer, the Egyptians had what Pliny calls factitious, 


BEER, PALM WINE, ETC. 


1 S? 


or artificial, wine, extracted from various fruits, as figs, myxcis , 
pomegranates, as well as herbs, some of which were selected for 
their medicinal properties. The Greeks and Latins comprehended 
every kind of beverage made by the process of fermentation 
under the same general name, and beer was designated as barley- 
wine; but, by the use of the name zythos, they show that the 
Egyptians distinguished it by its own peculiar appellation. Palm- 
wine was also made in Egypt, and used in the process of em¬ 
balming. 

The palm-wine now made in Egypt and the Oases is simply 
from an incision in the heart of the tree, immediately below the 
base of the upper branches, and a jar is attached to the part to 
catch the juice which exudes from it. But a palm thus tapped 
is rendered perfectly useless as a fruit-bearing tree, and generally 
dies in consequence; and it is reasonable to suppose that so great 
a sacrifice is seldom made except when date-trees are to be felled, 
or when they grow in great abundance. 

The modern name of this beverage in Egypt is lowbgeh ,* 
in flavor it resembles a very new light wine, and may be drunk 
in great quantity when taken from the tree; but, as soon as the 
fermentation has commenced, its intoxicating qualities have a 
powerful and speedy effect. 

Among the various fruit-trees cultivated by the ancient 
Egyptians, palms, of course, held the first rank, as well from their 
abundance as from their great utility. The fruit constituted a 
principal part of their food, both in the month of August, when 
it was gathered fresh from the trees, and at other seasons of the 
year, when it was used in a preserved state. 

They had two different modes of keeping the dates; one 
was by the simple process of drying them, the other was by mak¬ 
ing them into a conserve, like the agweh of the present day; 
and of this, which was eaten either cooked or as a simple sweet- 


i88 


AMUSEMENTS. 


meat, there have been found some cakes, as well as the dried 
dates, in the sepulchres ot Thebes. 

Pliny makes a just remark respecting the localities where 
the palm prospers, and the constant irrigation it requires; and 
though every one in the East knows the tree will not grow ex¬ 
cept where water is abundant, we still read of “ palm-trees of 
the desert,” as if it delighted in an arid district. Wherever 
it is found it is a sure indication of water; and if it may be 
said to flourish in a sandy soil, this is only in situations where 
its roots can obtain a certain quantity of moisture. The numerous 
purposes for which its branches and other parts might be applied 
rendered the cultivation of this valuable and productive tree a 
matter of primary importance, for no portion of it is without its 
peculiar use. 

The trunk serves for beams, either entire, or split in half; 
of the gereet , or branches, are made wicker baskets, bedsteads, 
coops, and ceilings of rooms, answering every purpose for which 
laths or any thin woodwork are required; the leaves are con¬ 
verted into mats, brooms, and baskets; of the fibrous tegument 
as the base of the branches, strong ropes and mats are made, 
and even the thick ends of the gereet are beaten flat and formed 
into brooms. 

Besides the lovjbgeh of the tree, brandy, wine, and vinegar 
are made from the fruit; and the quantity of saccharine matter 
in the dates might be used in default of sugar or honey. 

In Upper Egypt another tree, called the Dom , or Theban 
palm, was also much cultivated, and its wood, more solid and 
compact than the date-tree, is found to answer as well for rafts, 
and other purposes connected with water, as for beams and 
rafters. 





fpME£ AND |5 pORT£ OF THE ^QYPTIANg. 

The game of morra was common in ancient as well as mod¬ 
ern Italy, and was played by two persons, who each simultaneous¬ 
ly threw out the fingers of one hand, while one party guessed the 
sum of both. They were said in Latin, “ micare digitis,” and 
this game, still so common among the lower order of Indians, 
existed in Egypt, about four thousand years ago, in the reigns of 
the Osirtasens. 

The same, or even a greater, antiquity may be claimed for 
the game of draughts, or, as it has been called, chess. As in the 
two former, the players sat on the ground, or on chairs, and the 
pieces, or men, being ranged in line at either end of the tables, 
moved on a chequered board, as in our own chess. 

The pieces were all of the same size and form, though they 
varied on different boards, some being small, others large with 
round summits: some were surmounted by human heads; and 
many were of a lighter and neater shape, like small nine-pins, 
probably the most fashionable kind, since they were used in the 
palace of king Remeses. These last seem to have been about 
one inch and a half high, standing on a circular base of half an 
inch in diameter; but some are only one inch and a quarter in 
height, and little more than half an inch broad at the lower end. 
Others have been found, of ivory, one inch and six eighths high, 
and one and an eighth in diameter, with a small knob at the top, 
exactly like those represented at Beni Hassan, and the tombs near 
the Pyramids. 


189 







190 


AMUSEMENTS. 


They were about equal in size upon the same board, one set 
black, the other white or red; or one with round, the other with 
flat heads, standing on opposite sides; and each player, raising it 
with the finger and thumb, advanced his piece towards those of 
his opponent; but though we are unable to say if this was done 
in a direct or a diagonal line, there is reason to believe they could 
not take backwards as in the Polish game of chess, the men being 
mixed together on the board. 

It was an amusement common in the houses of the lower 
classes, as in the mansions of the rich; and king Remeses is him¬ 
self portrayed on the walls of his palace at Thebes, engaged in 
the £ame of chess with the ladies of his household. 

The modern Egyptians have a game of chess, very similar, 
in the appearance of the men, to that of their ancestors, which 
they call dameh , and play much in the same manner as our own. 

Analogous to the game of odd and even was one, in which 
two of the players held a number of shells, or dice, in their closed 
hands, over a third person who knelt between them, with his face 
towards the ground, and who was obliged to guess the combined 
number ere he could be released from this position. 

Another game consisted in endeavoring to snatch from each 
other a small hoop, by means of hooked rods, probably of metal; 
and the success of a player seems to have depended on extricat¬ 
ing his own from an adversary’s rod, and then snatching up the 
hoop, before he had time to stop it. 

There were also two games, of which the boards, with the 
men, are in the possession of Dr. Abbott. One is eleven inches 
long by three and a half, and has ten spaces or squares in three 
rows; the other twelve squares at the upper end (or four squares 
in three rows) and a long line of eight squares below, forming 
an approach to the upper part, like the arrangement of German 
tactics. The men in the drawer of the board are of two shapes, 
one set ten, the other nine in number. 


GAMES WITH DICE. 


I 9 I 

Other games are represented in the paintings, but not in a 
manner to render them intelligible; and many, which were doubt¬ 
less common in Egypt, are omitted both in the tombs, and in the 
writings of ancient authors. 

The dice discovered at Thebes and other places, may not be 
of a Pharaonic period, but, from the simplicity of their form, we 
may suppose them similar to those of the earliest age, in which, 
too, the conventional number of six sides had probably always 
been adopted. They were marked with small circles, represent¬ 
ing units, generally with a dot in the centre; and were of bone or 
ivory, varying slightly in size. 

Plutarch shows that dice were a very early invention in 
Egypt, and acknowledged to be so by the Egyptians themselves, 
since they were introduced into one of their oldest mythological 
fables; Mercury being represented playing at dice with the Moon, 
previous to the birth of Osiris, and winning from her the live 
days of the epact, which were added to complete the 365 days of 
the year. 

It is probable that several games of chance were known to 
the Egyptians, besides dice and nwrra , and, as with the Romans, 
that many a doubtful mind sought relief in the promise of suc¬ 
cess, by having recourse to fortuitous combinations of various 
kinds; and the custom of drawing, or casting lots, was common, 
at least as early as the period of the Hebrew Exodus. 

The games and amusements of children were such as tended 
to promote health by the exercise of the body, and to divert the 
mind by laughable entertainments. Throwing and catching the 
ball, running, leaping, and similar feats, were encouraged, as soon 
as their age enabled them to indulge in them; and a young child 
was amused with painted dolls, whose hands and legs, moving on 
pins, were made to assume various positions by means of strings. 
Some of these were of rude form, without legs, or with an im¬ 
perfect representation of a single arm on one side. > Some had 


192 


AMUSEMENTS. 


numerous beads, in imitation of hair, hanging from the doubtful 
place of the head; others exhibited a nearer approach to the form 
of a man; and some, made with considerable attention to propor¬ 
tion, were small models of the human figure. They were colored 
according to fancy; and the most shapeless had usually the 
most gaudy appearance, being intended to catch the eye of an 
infant. Sometimes a man was figured washing, or kneading 
dough, who was made to work by pulling a string; and a typho- 
nian monster, or a crocodile, amused a child by its grimaces, or 
the motion of its opening mouth. In the toy of the crocodile, we 
have sufficient evidence that the notion of this animal u not mov¬ 
ing its lower jaw, and being the only creature which brings the 
upper one down to the lower,'” is erroneous. Like other ani¬ 
mals, it moves the lower jaw only; but when seizing its prey, it 
throws up its head, which gives an appearance of motion in the 
upper jaw, and has led to the mistake. 

The game of ball was of course generally played out of 
doors. It was not confined to children, nor to one sex, though 
the mere amusement of throwing and catching it appears to have 
been considered more particularly adapted to women. They had 
different modes of playing. Sometimes a person unsuccessful in 
catching the ball was obliged to suffer another to ride on her 
back, who continued to enjoy this post until she also missed it; 
the ball being thrown by an opposite player, mounted in the same 
manner, and placed at a certain distance, according to the space 
previously agreed upon; and, from the beast-of-burden office of 
the person who had failed, the same name was probably applied 
to her as to those in the Greek game, “who were called asses, 
and were obliged to submit to the commands of the victor.” 

Sometimes they caught three or more balls in succession, the 
hands occasionally crossed over the breast; they also threw it up 
to a height and caught it, like our u sky-ball;” and the game de¬ 
scribed by Homer to have been played by Halius and Laodamus, 


GAMES OF BALL. 


T 93 


in the presence of Alcinous, was known to them; in which one 
party threw the ball as high as he could, and the other, leaping 
up, caught it on its fall, before his feet again touched the ground. 

When mounted on the backs of the losing party, the Egyp¬ 
tian women sat sidewise. Their dress consisted merely of a short 
petticoat, without a body, the loose upper robe being laid aside 
on these occasions; it was bound at the waist with a girdle, sup¬ 
ported by a strap over the shoulder, and was nearly the same as 
the undress garb of mourners, worn during the funeral lamenta¬ 
tion on the death of a friend. 

The balls were made of leather or skin, sewed with string, 
crosswise, in the same manner as our own, and stuffed with bran, 
or husks of corn; and those which have been found at Thebes 
are about three inches in diameter. Others were made of string, 
or of the stalks of rushes, platted together so as to form a circular 
mass, and covered, like the former, with leather. They appear 
also to have had a smaller kind of ball probably of the same 
materials, and covered, like many of our own, with slips of 
leather of a rhomboidal shape, sewed together longitudinally, 
and meeting in a common point at both ends, each alternate slip 
being of a different color; but these have only been met with in 
pottery. 

In one of their performances of strength and dexterity, two 
men stood together side by side, and, placing one arm forward 
and the other behind them, held the hands of two women, who 
reclined backwards, in opposite directions, with their whole weight 
pressed against each other’s feet, and in this' position were whirled 
round; the hands of the men who held them being occasionally 
crossed, in order more effectually to guarantee the steadiness of 
the centre, on which they turned,. 

Sometimes two men, seated back to back on the ground, at 
a criven signal tried who should rise first from that position, with- 
out touching the ground with the hand. And in this, too, there 

1 3 


i 9 4 


AMUSEMENTS. 


was probably the trial who should first make good his seat upon 
the ground, from a standing position. 

Another game consisted in throwing a knife, or pointed wea¬ 
pon, into a block of wood, in which each player was required to 
strike his adversary’s, or more probably to fix his own in the 
centre, or at the circumference, of a ring painted on the wood ; 
and his success depended on being able to ring his weapon most 
frequently, or approach most closely to the line. 

Conjuring appears also to have been known to them, at least 
thimble-rig, or the game of cups, under which a ball was put, 
while the opposite party guessed under which of four it was con¬ 
cealed. 

The Egyptian grandees frequently admitted dwarfs, and de¬ 
formed persons, into their household; originally, perhaps, from a 
humane motive, or from some superstitious regard for men who 
bore the external character of one of their principal gods, Pthah- 
Sokari-Osiris, the misshapen Deity of Memphis; but, whatever 
may have given rise to the custom, it is a singular fact, that al¬ 
ready as early as the age of Osirtasen, or about 4,000 years ago, 
the same fancy of attaching these persons to their suite existed 
among the Egyptians, as at Rome, and even in modern Europe, 
till a late period. 

The games of the lower orders, and of those who sought to 
invigorate the body by active exercises, consisted of feats of 
agility and strength. Wrestling was a favorite amusement; and 
the paintings at Beni ITassan present all the varied attitudes and 
modes of attack and defence of which it is susceptible. And, in 
order to enable the spectator more readily to perceive the posi¬ 
tion of the limbs of each combatant, the artist has availed him¬ 
self of a dark and light color, and even ventured to introduce 
alternately a black and red figure. The subject covers a whole 
wall. 

It is probable that, like the Greeks, they anointed the body 


WRESTLING. 


*95 


with oil, when preparing for these exercises, and they were en¬ 
tirely naked, with the exception of a girdle, apparently of leathern 
thongs. 

The two combatants generally approached each other, hold¬ 
ing their arms in an inclined position before the body; and each 
endeavored to seize his adversary in the manner best suited to 
his mode of attack. It was allowable to take hold of any part 
of the body, the head, neck, or legs; and the struggle was fre¬ 
quently continued on the ground, after one or both had fallen; a 
mode of wrestling common also to the Greeks. 

They also fought with the single stick, the hand being ap¬ 
parently protected by a basket, or guard projecting over the 
knuckles; and on the left arm they wore a straight piece of 
wood, bound on with straps, serving as a shield to ward off their 
adversary’s blow. They do not, however, appear to have used 
the cestus , nor to have known the art of boxing; though in one 
group, at Beni Hassan, the combatants appear to strike each 
other. Nor is there an instance, in any of these contests, of the 
Greek sign of acknowledging defeat, which was by holding up a 
finger in token of submission; and it was probably done by the 
Egyptians with a word. It is also doubtful if throwing the dis¬ 
cus, or quoit, was an Egyptian game; but there appears to be 
one instance of it, in a king’s tomb of the 19th dynasty. 

One of their feats of strength, or dexterity, was lifting 
weights; and bags full of sand were raised with one hand from 
the ground and carried with a straight arm over the head, and 
held in that position. 

Mock fights were also an amusement, particularly among 
those of the military class, who were trained to the fatigues of 
war, by these manly recreations. One party attacked a tem¬ 
porary fort, and brought up the battering ram, under cover of 
the testudo; another defended the walls and endeavored to repel 
the enemy; others, in two parties of equal numbers, engaged in 


196 


AMUSEMENTS. 


single stick, or the more usual neboot , a pole wielded with both 
hands; and the pugnacious spirit of the people is frequently 
alluded to in the scenes portrayed by their artists. 

The use of the neboot seems to have been as common among 
the ancient, as among the modern, Egyptians; and the quarrels 
of villages were often decided or increased, as at present, by this 
efficient weapon. 

Crews of boats are also represented attacking each other 
with the earnestness of real strife. Some are desperately wounded, 
and, being felled by their more skillful opponents, are thrown 
headlong into the water; and the truth of Herodotus 1 assertion, 
that the heads of the Egyptians were harder than those of other 
people, seems fully justified by the scenes described by their own 
draughtsmen. 

It is fortunate that their successors have inherited this 
peculiarity, in order to bear the violence of the Turks, and their 
own combats. 

Many singular encounters with sticks are mentioned by an¬ 
cient authors; among which may be noticed one at Papremis, the 
city of Mars, described by Herodotus. When the votaries of the 
deity presented themselves at the gates of the temple, their en¬ 
trance was obstructed by an opposing party; and all being armed 
with sticks, they commenced a rude combat, which ended, not 
merely in the infliction of a few severe wounds, but even, as the 
historian affirms, in the death of many persons on either side. 

Bull-fights were also among their sports; which were some¬ 
times exhibited in the dromos , or avenue, leading to the temples, 
as at Memphis before the temple of Vulcan; and prizes were 
awarded to the owner of the victorious combatant. Great care 
was taken in training them for this purpose; Strabo says as much 
as is usually bestowed on horses; and herdsmen were not loth to 
allow, or encourage, an occasional fight for the love of the exciting 
and popular amusement. 


INTELLECTUAL CAPABILITIES. 


l 91 


They did not, however, condemn culprits, or captives taken 
in war, to fight with wild beasts, for the amusement of an unfeel¬ 
ing assembly; nor did they compel gladiators to kill each other, 
and gratify a depraved taste by exhibitions revolting to humanity. 
Their great delight was in amusements of a lively character, as 
music, dancing, buffoonery, and feats of agility; and those who 
excelled in gymnastic exercises were rewarded with prizes of 
various kinds; which in the country towns consisted, among other 
things, of cattle, dresses, and skins, as in the games celebrated in 
Chemmis. 

The lively amusements of the Egyptians show that they had 
not the gloomy character so often attributed to them; and it is 
satisfactory to have these evidences by which to judge of it, in 
default of their physiognomy, so unbecomingly altered by death, 
bitumen, and bandages. 

The intellectual capabilities, however, of individuals may 
yet be subject to the decision of the phrenologist; and if they have 
escaped the ordeal of the supposed spontaneous rotation of a pen¬ 
dulum under a glass bell, their handwriting is still open to the 
criticisms of the wise, who discover by it the most minute secrets 
of character; and some of the old scribes may even now be 
amenable to this kind of scrutiny. But they are fortunately out 
of reach of the surprise, that some in modern days exhibit, at the 
exact likeness of themselves, believed to be presented to them 
from their own handwriting by a few clever generalities; forget¬ 
ting that the sick man, in each malady he reads of in a book of 
medicine, discovers his own symptoms, and fancies they corre¬ 
spond with his own particular case. For though a certain neat¬ 
ness, or precision, carelessness, or other habit, may be discovered 
by handwriting, to describe from it all the minutiae of character 
is only feeding the love of the marvelous, so much on the in¬ 
crease in these days, when a reaction of credulity bids fair to 
make nothing too extravagant for our modern gobe-mouches. 




198 


AMUSEMENTS. 


Among the various pastimes of the Egyptians, none was more 
popular than the chase; and the wealthy aristocracy omitted 
nothing that could promote their favorite amusement. They 
hunted the numerous wild animals in the desert; they had them 
caught with nets, to be turned out on some future day; and some 
very keen sportsmen took long journeys to spots noted for 
abundance of game. 

When a grand chase or hunt took place in the domain of 
some grandee, or in the extensive tracts of the desert, a retinue 
of huntsmen, beaters and others in his service, attended to manage 
the hounds, to carry the game baskets and hunting poles, to set 
the nets, and to make other preparations for a good day’s sport. 
Some took a fresh supply of arrows, a spare bow, and various 
requisites for remedying accidents ; some were merely beaters, 
others were to assist in securing the large animals caught by the 
lasso , others had to mark or turn the game, and some carried a 
stock of provisions for the chasseur and his friends. These last 
were borne upon the usual wooden yoke, across the shoulders, 
and consisted of a skin of water, and jars of good wine placed in 
wicker baskets, with bread, meats, and other eatables. 

Sometimes a portion of the desert of considerable extent, was 
enclosed by nets, into which the animals were driven by beaters; 
and the place chosen for fixing them was, if possible, across nar¬ 
row valleys, or torrent beds, lying between some rocky hills. 
Here a sportsman on horseback, or in a chariot, could waylay 
them, or get within reach with a bow; for many animals, partic¬ 
ularly gazelles, when closely pressed by dogs, fear to take a steep 
ascent, and are easily overtaken, or shot as they double back. 

The spots thus enclosed were usually in the vicinity of the 
water brooks, to which they were in the habit of repairing in the 
morning and evening; and having awaited the time when they 
went to drink, and ascertained it by their recent tracks on the 
accustomed path, the hunters disposed the nets, occupied proper 


* 


HUNTING. 


199 


positions for observing them unseen, and gradually closed in upon 
them. 

Such are the scenes partially portrayed in the Egyptian 
paintings, where long nets are represented surrounding the space 
they hunted in; and the hyaenas, jackals, and various wild beasts 
unconnected with the sport, are intended to show that they have 
been accidentally enclosed within the same line of nets with the 
antelopes and other animals. 

In the same way ^Eneas and Dido repaired to a wood at 
break of day, after the attendants had surrounded it with a tem¬ 
porary fence, to enclose the game. 

The long net was furnished with several ropes, and was sup¬ 
ported on forked poles, varying in length, to correspond with the 
inequalities of the ground, and was so contrived as to enclose any 
space, by crossing hills, valleys or streams, and encircling woods, 
or whatever might present itself; smaller nets for stopping gaps 
were also used ; and a circular snare, set round with wooden or 
metal nails, and attached by a rope to a log of wood, which was 
used for catching deer, resembled one still made by the Arabs. 

The dresses of the attendants and huntsmen were generally 
of a suppressed color, u lest they should be seen at a distance by 
the animals,” tight fitting, and reaching only a short way down 
the thigh; and the horses of the chariots were divested of the fea¬ 
thers and showy ornaments used on other occasions. 

Besides the portions of the open desert and the valleys, which 
were enclosed for hunting, the parks and covers on their own do¬ 
mains in the valley of the Nile, though of comparatively limited 
dimensions, offered ample space and opportunity for indulging in 
the chase; and a quantity of game was kept there, principally the 
wild goat, oryx, and gazelle. 

They had also fish-ponds, and spacious poultry-yards, set 
apart for keeping geese and other wild fowl, which they fattened 
for the table. 


200 


AMUSEMENTS. 


It was the duty of the huntsmen, or the gamekeepers, to sup¬ 
erintend the preserves; and at proper periods of the year wild 
fawns were obtained, to increase the herds of gazelles and other 
animals, which always formed part ol the stock ot a wealthy 
Egyptian. 

The Egyptians frequently coursed with dogs in the open 
plains, the chasseur following in his chariot, and the huntsmen on 
foot. Sometimes he only drove to cover in his car, and having 
alighted, shared in the toil of searching for the game, his attend¬ 
ants keeping the dogs in slips, ready to start them as soon as it 
appeared. The more usual custom when the dogs threw off in a 
level plain of great extent, was for him to remain in his chariot, 
and, urging his horses to their full speed, endeavor to turn or in¬ 
tercept them as they doubled, discharging a well-directed arrow 
whenever they came within its range. 

The dogs were taken to the ground by persons expressly 
employed for that purpose, and for all the duties connected with 
the kennel; and were either started one by one or in pairs, in the 
narrow valleys or open plains; and when coursing on foot, the 
chasseur and his attendant huntsmen, acquainted with the direc¬ 
tion and sinuosities of the torrent beds, shortened the road as they 
followed across the intervening hills, and sought a favorable op¬ 
portunity for using the bow; or enjoyed the course in the level 
space before them. 

Having pursued on foot, and arrived at the spot where the 
dogs had caught their prey, the huntsman, if alone, took up the 
game, tied its legs together, and hanging it over his shoulders, 
once more led by his hand the coupled dogs, precisely in the 
same manner as the Arabs do at the present day. But this was 
generally the office of persons who carried the cages and baskets 
on the usual wooden yoke, and who took charge of the game as 
soon as it was caught; the supply of these substitutes for our 
game cart being in proportion to the proposed range of the chase, 
and the number of head they expected to kill. 


HUNTING. 


201 


Sometimes an ibex, oryx, or wild ox, being closely pressed 
by the hounds,, faced round and kept them at bay, with its for¬ 
midable horns, and the spear of the huntsman as he came up, 
was required to decide the success of the chase. 

It frequently happened, when the chasseur had many attend¬ 
ants and the district to be hunted was extensive, that they divided 
into parties, each taking one or more dogs, and starting them on 
whatever animal broke cover; sometimes they went without 
hounds, merely having a small dog for searching the bushes, or 
laid in wait for the larger and more formidable animals, and at¬ 
tacked them with the lance. 

The noose, or lasso , was also employed to catch the wild ox, 
the antelope and other animals; but this could only be thrown by 
lying in ambush for the purpose, and was principally adopted 
when they wished to secure them alive. 

Besides the bow, the hounds and the noose, they hunted with 
lions, which were trained expressly for the chase, like the cheeta , 
or hunting leopard of India, being brought up from cubs in a 
tame state; and many Egyptian monarchs were accompanied in 
battle by a favorite lion. But there is no instance of hawking. 

The bow used for the chase was very similar to that em¬ 
ployed in war; the arrows were generally the same, with metal 
heads, though some were only tipped with stone. The mode of 
drawing the bow was also the same; and if the chasseurs some- 
times pulled the string only to the breast, the more usual method 
was to raise it, and bring the arrow to the ear; and occasionally, 
one or more spare arrows were held in the hand, to give greater 
facility in discharging them with rapidity on the antelopes and 
oxen. 

The animals they chiefly hunted were the gazelle, wild goat 
or ibex , the oryx, wild ox, stag, kebsh or wild sheep, hare and 
porcupine; of all of which the meat was highly esteemed among 
the delicacies of the table; the fox, jackal, wolf, hyaena, and 




2 02 AMUSEMENTS. 

leopard, and others, being chased as an amusement, for the sake 
of their skins, or as enemies of the farm-yard. For though the 
fact of the hyaena being sometimes bought with the ibex and ga¬ 
zelle might seem to justify the belief that it was also eaten, there 
is no instance of its being slaughtered for the table. The ostrich 
held out a great temptation to the hunter from the value of its 
plumes. These were in great request among the Egyptians for 
ornamental purposes; they were also the sacred symbol of truth; 
and the members of the court on grand occasions decked them¬ 
selves with the feathers of the ostrich. The labor endured during 
the chase of this swift-footed bird was amply repaid; even its eggs 
were required for some ornamental or for some religious use (as 
with the modern Copts); and, with the plumes, formed part of 
the tribute imposed by the Egyptians on the conquered countries 
where it abounded. Lion hunting was a favorite amusement of 
the kings, and the deserts of Ethiopia always afforded good 
sport, abounding as they did with lions; their success on .those 
occasions was a triumph they often recorded; and Amunoph III. 
boasted having brought down in one battue no less than one hun¬ 
dred and two head, either with the bow or spear. For the chase 
of elephants they went still further south; and, in after times, the 
Ptolemies had hunting places in Abyssinia. 



\ 






The life ot married women, maidens, children while in the 
care ot women, and ot female slaves, passed in the gynaikonitis, 
from which they issued only on rare occasions. The family life 
of Greek women widely differed from our Christian idea; neither 
did it resemble the lite in an Oriental harem, to which it was far 
superior. The idea of the family was held up by both law and 
custom, and although concubinage and the intercourse with 
hetairai was suffered, nay favored, by the state, still such impure 
elements never intruded on domestic relations. 

Our following remarks refer, of course, only to the better 
classes, the struggle for existence by the poor being nearly the 
same in all ages. In the seclusion of the gynaikonitis the maiden 
grew up in comparative ignorance. The care bestowed on do¬ 
mestic duties and on her dress was the only interest of her monot¬ 
onous existence. Intellectual intercourse with the other sex was 
wanting entirely. Even where maidens appeared in public at 
religious ceremonies, they acted separately from the youths. An 
intercourse of this kind, at any rate, could not have a lasting in¬ 
fluence on their culture. Even marriage did not change this 
state of things. The maiden only passed from the gynaikonitis 
of her father into that of her husband. In the latter, however, 
she was the absolute ruler. She did not share the intellectual life 
of her husband—one of the fundamental conditions of our family 
life. It is true that the husband watched over her honor with 
jealousy, assisted by the gynaikonomoi, sometimes even by means 

203 






204 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


of lock and key. It is also true that common custom protected 
a well-behaved woman against offence; still her position was only 
that of the mother of the family. Indeed, her duties and achieve¬ 
ments were hardly considered by the husband, in a much higher 
light than those of a faithful domestic slave. 

In prehistoric times the position of women seems to have 
been, upon the whole, a more dignified one. Still, even then, 
their duties were essentially limited to the house, as is proved, 
for instance, by the words in which Telemachos bids his mother 
mind her spindle and loom, instead of interfering with the debates 
of men. As the state became more developed, it took up the 
whole attention of the man, and still more separated him from his 
wife. Happy marriages, of course, were by no means impos¬ 
sible; still, as a rule, the opinion prevailed of the woman being by 
nature inferior to the man, and holding a position of a minor 
with regard to civic rights. This principle has, indeed, been re¬ 
peatedly pronounced by ancient philosophers and lawgivers. Our 
remarks hitherto referred chiefly to the Ionic-Attic tribe, re¬ 
nowned for the modesty of its women and maidens. The Doric 
principle, expressed in the constitution of Sparta, gave, on the 
contrary, full liberty to maidens to show themselves in public, 
and to steel their strength by bodily exercise. This liberty, 
however, was not the result of a philosophic idea of the equality 
of the two sexes, but was founded on the desire of'producing 
strong children by means of strengthening the body of the fe¬ 
male. 

The chief occupation of women, beyond the preparing of the 
meals, consisted in spinning and weaving. In Homer we see the 
wives of the nobles occupied in this way; and the custom of the 
women making the necessary articles of dress continued to pre¬ 
vail even when the luxury of later times, together with the de¬ 
generacy of the women themselves, had made the establishment 
of workshops and places of manufacture for this purpose neces- 


OCCUPATION OF WOMEN. 


205 


sary. Antique art has frequently treated these domestic occu¬ 
pations. The Attic divinities, Athene Ergane and Aphrodite 
Urania, as well as the Argive Here, Ilithyia, the protecting god¬ 
dess of child-bearing, Persephone, and Artemis, all these plastic 
art represents as goddesses of fate, weaving the thread of life, 









'i® . 



social enjoyment of women ( From an ancient painting.) 


and, at the same time, protecting female endeavors, in which 
two-fold quality they have the emblem of domestic activity, the 
distaff, as their attribute. Only a few representations ol spinning 
goddesses now remain; but many are the pictuies of mortal 
spinning-maidens painted on walls, chiefly for female use. For the 
spinning, a spindle was used, as is still the case in places w hei e the 




























































































































20 6 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


northern spinning-wheel has not supplanted the antique custom. 
Homer describes noble ladies handling the distaff with the spindle 
belonging to it. Helen received a present of a golden spindle, with a 
silver basket to keep the thread in. The distaff, with a bundle of 
wool or flax fastened to its point, was held under the left arm, while 
the thumb and first finger of the right hand, slightly wetted, spun 
the thread at the end of which hung the spindle, made of metal. 
The web was, from the spindle, wound round a reel, to be fur¬ 
ther prepared on the loom. 

Akin to spinning are the arts of weaving and embroidering. 
We frequently see in vase-paintings women with embroidering- 
frames in their laps. The skill of Greek ladies in embroidery is 
sufficiently proved by the tasteful embroidered patterns and 
borders on Greek dresses, both of men and women. The vase- 
paintings supply many examples. 

Our remarks about female duties in preparing the meal must 
be short. The heavy parts of the duty, like grinding the corn in 
hand-mills, were performed by servants. In the palace of Odys¬ 
seus twelve female slaves were employed all day in grinding wheat 
and barley in an equal number of hand-mills, to supply the 
numerous guests. The hand-mill consisted (like those still used 
in some Greek islands) of two stones, each about two feet in 
diameter, the upper one of which was made to rotate by means 
of a crooked handle, so as to crush the corn poured through an 
opening in it. 

Baking and roasting meat on the spit were among the duties 
of female slaves. In every house of even moderate wealth, sev¬ 
eral of these were kept as cooks, chambermaids, and companions 
of the ladies on their walks, it being deemed improper for them 
to leave the house unaccompanied by several slaves. How far 
ladies took immediate part in the preparing of dainty dishes we 
can not say. In later times it became customary to buy or hire 
male slaves as cooks. 


BATHING. 


207 


Antique representations of women bathing, adorning them¬ 
selves, playing, and dancing, are numerous. The Athenian 
maiden, unlike her Spartan sister, did not think it proper to pub¬ 
licly exhibit her bodily skill and beauty in a short chiton, but 
taking a bath seems to have been among her every-day habits 
as is shown by the numerous bathing scenes on vases. In one 
of them, a slave pours the contents of a hydria over her nude 
mistress. Cowering on the floor in another we see an undressed 
woman catching in her hand the water-spout issuing from a mask 
of Pan in the wall into a bath. An alabastron and comb are 
lying on the floor. A picture on an amphora in the museum of 
Berlin offers a most interesting view of the interior of a Greek 
bath-chamber. We see a bathing establishment built in the 
Doric style. By a row of columns the inner space is divided 
into two bath-chambers, each for two women. The water is most 
likely carried by pressure to the tops of the hollow columns, the 
communication among which is effected by means of pipes about 
six feet from the ground. The openings of the taps are formed 
into neatly modeled heads of boars, lions, and panthers, from the 
mouths of which a fine rain spray is thrown on the bathers. Their 
hair has been tightly arranged into plaits. The above-mentioned 
pipes were evidently used for hanging up the towels; perhaps 
they were even filled with hot water to warm the bathing linen. 
Whether our picture represents a public or private bath seems 
doubtful. The dressing after the bath has also been frequently 
depicted. v 

We need not enter upon the subject here. We will mention 
the chief utensils, as the comb, ointment-bottle, mirror, etc., on a 
following page. The scenes thus depicted are undoubtedly bor¬ 
rowed from daily life, although Aphrodite, with her attendance 
of Cupids and Graces, has taken the place of mortal women. 

For music, games, and dances, we mention only a game at 
ball, which was played in a dancing measure, and, therefore, con- 


2o8 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


sidered as a practice of graceful movements. Homer mentions 
Nausikaa as a skilled player of this game. It is remarkable that 
wherever women playing at ball appear in pictures they are 
represented in a sitting posture. (See cut, page 205.) 

The swing was essentially a female amusement. In com¬ 
memoration of the fate of Erigone, daughter of Ikarios, a festival 
had been ordained at Athens at which the maidens indulged in 
the joys of the swing. Illustrations of this pastime occur fre¬ 
quently on vases, free from any mythological symbolism, even in 
cases where Eros is made to move the swing. 

We now come to the point in the maiden’s life when she 
is to preside over her own household as the legitimate mate of 
her husband. In most cases Greek marriage was a matter of con¬ 
venience, a man considering it his duty to provide for the legiti¬ 
mate continuation of his family. The Doric tribe did not attempt 
to disguise this principle in its plain-spoken laws; the rest of 
Greece acknowledged it but in silence, owing to a more refined 
conception of the moral significance of marriage. 

The seclusion of female life, indeed, made the question of 
personal charms appear of secondary importance. Equity of 
birth and wealth were the chief considerations. The choice of the 
Athenian citizen was limited to Athenian maidens; only in that 
case were the children entitled to full birthright, the issue of a 
marriage of an Athenian man or maiden with a stranger being 
considered illegitimate by the law. Such a marriage was, in¬ 
deed, nothing but a form of concubinage. The laws referring to 
this point were, however, frequently evaded. At the solemn be¬ 
trothal, always preceding the actual marriage, the dowry of the 
bride was settled; her position as a married woman greatly de¬ 
pended upon its value. Frequently the daughter of poor, deserv¬ 
ing citizens were presented with a dowry by the state or by a 
number of citizens. 

In Homer’s time the bridegroom wooed the bride with rich 


WEDDING CEREMONIES. 


209 


gilts; Iphidamas, tor instance, offers a hundred heifers and a thou¬ 
sand goats as a nuptial present. But afterwards this was entirely 
reversed, the father of the bride having to provide the dowry, 
consisting partly in cash, partly in clothes, jewelry, and slaves. 
In cases of separation the dowry had, in most cases, to be re¬ 
turned to the wife’s parents. The most appropriate age for con¬ 
tracting a marriage, Plato in his Republic fixes, for girls, at 
twenty, for men, at thirty. There was, however, no rule to this 
effect. Parents were naturally anxious to dispose of their daugh¬ 
ters as early as possible, without taking objection to the advanced 
years of the wooer, as is tersely pointed out by Aristophanes. 

The actual marriage ceremony, or leading home, was pre¬ 
ceded by offerings to Zeus Teleios, Hera Teleia, Artemis Eukleia, 
and other deities protecting marriage. The bridal bath was the 
second ceremony, which both bride and bridegroom had to go 
through previous to their union. 

On the wedding day, towards dark, after the meal at her 
parental home was over,* the bride left the festively adorned 
house, and was conducted by the bridegroom in a chariot to his 
dwelling. She sat between the bridegroom and the best man 
chosen from among his relatives or intimate friends. Accom¬ 
panied by the sounds of the hymenseos, and the festive sounds of 
flutes and friendly acclamations from all passers-by, the procession 
moved slowly towards the bridegroom’s house, also adorned with 
wreaths of foliage. The mother of the bride walked behind the 

O 

chariot, with the wedding torches, kindled at the parental hearth, 
according to custom immemorial. At the door of the bridegroom 
his mother was awaiting the young couple with burning torches 
in her hand. In case no wedding meal had been served at the 
bride’s house, the company now sat down to it. To prognosticate 
the desired fertility of the union, cakes of sesame were distributed. 
The same symbolic meaning attached to the quince, which, ac* 


* At this meal, contrary to the usual custom, women were present. 

H 


2 10 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


cording to Solon’s law, the bride had to eat. After the meal the 
couple retired to the thalamos, where for the first time the bride 
unveiled herself to her husband. Before the door of the bridal 
chamber epithalamia were sung, a charming specimen of which 
we possess in the bridal hymn of Helena by Theokritos. On 
the two first days after the wedding, wedding-presents were re¬ 
ceived by the pair. Not till after these days did the bride appear 
without her veil. 

Very different from the social position of chaste women was 
that of the hetairai. We are not speaking of the lowest class of 
unfortunates, worshiping Aphrodite Pandemos, but of those wo¬ 
men who, owing to their beauty and grace of conversation, ex¬ 
erted great influence even over superior men. We only remind 
the reader of Aspasia. In the graces of society the hetairai were 
naturally superior to respectable women, owing to their free in¬ 
tercourse with men. For the hetairai did not shun the light of 
day, and were not restrained by the law. Only the house of the 
married man was closed to them. 

Before passing from private to public life, we must cast a 
glance at the early education of the child by the mother. We 
begin with the earliest days of infancy. After the first bath the 
new-born child was put into swaddling-clothes, a custom not per¬ 
mitted by the rougher habits of Sparta. On the fifth or seventh 
day the infant had to go through the ceremony of purification; 
the midwife, holding him in her arms, walked several times 
round the burning altar. A festive meal on this day was given 
to the family, the doors being decorated with an olive crown for 
a boy, with wool for a girl. On the tenth day after its birth, 
when the child was named, another feast took place. This cere¬ 
mony implied the acknowledgment, on the part of the father, of 
the child’s legitimacy. The name of the child was chosen by 
both parents, generally after the name of either of the grandpar¬ 
ents, sometimes, also, after the name or attributes of a deity, un- 


children’s toys. 


211 


der whose particular protection the child was thus placed. A 
sacrifice, offered chiefly to the goddess of child-bearing, Here 
Ilithyia, and a meal, concluded the ceremony. At the latter, 
friends and relatives presented the infant with toys of metal or 
clay, while the mother received painted vases. The antique cra¬ 
dle consisted of a fiat swing of basket work, such as appears in a 
terra-cotta relief in the British Museum, of the infant Bacchus 
being carried by a satyr brandishing a thyrsus,-and a torch¬ 
bearing bacchante. Another kind of cradle, in the form of a 
shoe, is shown containing the infant Hermes, recognizable by his 
petasos. It also is made of basket-work. The advantage of this 
cradle consists in its having handles, and, therefore, being easily 
portable. It also might be suspended on ropes, and rocked with¬ 
out difficulty. Other cradles, similar to our modern ones, belong 
to a later period. The singing of lullabies, and the rocking of 
children to sleep, were common amongst the ancients. Wet- 
nurses were commonly employed amongst Ionian tribes; wealthy 
Athenians chose Spartan nurses in preference, as being generally 
strong and healthy. After the child had been weaned it was fed 
by the dry nurse and the mother with pap, made chiefly of 
honey. 

The rattle, said to be invented by Archytas, was the first toy 
of the infant. Other toys of various kinds were partly bought, 
partly made by the children themselves on growing older. We 
mention painted clay puppets, representing human beings or ani¬ 
mals, such as tortoises, hares, ducks, and mother apes with their 
offspring. Small stones were put inside, so as to produce a rat¬ 
tling noise; which circumstance, together with the fact of small 
figures of this kind being frequently found on children’s graves, 
proves their being toys. Small wooden carts, houses and ships 
made of leather, and many other toys, made by the children 
themselves, might be instanced. Up to their sixth year boys and 
girls were brought up together under their mother’s care; from 


212 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


that point their education became separate. 1 he education 
proper of the boy became a more public one, while the girl was 
brought up by the mother at home, in a most simple way, ac¬ 
cording to their notions. From amongst the domestic slaves a 
trustworthy companion was chosen for the boy. He was, how¬ 
ever, not a tutor in our sense, but rather a faithful servant, who 
had to take care of the boy in his walks, particularly on his way 
to and from school. He also had to instruct his pupil in certain 
rules of good behavior. The boy had, for instance, to walk in 
the street with his head bent, as a sign ot modesty, and to make 
room for his elders meeting him. In the presence ot the latter 
he had to preserve a respectful silence. Proper behavior at ta¬ 
ble, a graceful way of wearing his garments, etc., might be men¬ 
tioned as kindred subjects of education. Boys were accompanied 
by pedagogues up to their sixteenth year. The latter appear 
frequently in vase-paintings, and are easily recognizable by their 
dress, consisting of chiton and cloak, with high-laced boots; they 
also carry sticks with crooked handles, and their hair and beards 
give them a venerable aspect; while their pupils, according to 
Athenian custom, are clad more lightly and gracefully. The 
pedagogue of the group of the Niobides is well known. 

Education was, at Athens, a matter of private enterprise. 

0 

Schools were kept by private teachers, the government super¬ 
vision extending only to the moral not to the scientific qualifica¬ 
tion of the schoolmaster. Grammar, music and gymnastics, to 
which Aristotle adds drawing, as a means of aesthetic cultivation, 
were the common subjects of education at schools and gymnasia; 
also reading, writing and arithmetic. The method of teaching 
how to write consisted in the master’s forming the letters, which 
the pupils had to imitate on their tablets, sometimes with the 
master’s assistance. The writing materials were small tablets 
covered with wax, into which the letters were scratched by 
means of a pencil made of metal or ivory. It was pointed at 


WRITING MATERIALS. 


2I 3 


one end, and flattened or bent at the other, so as to extinguish 
the writing, if required, and, at the same time, to smooth the 
surface again for other letters. A young girl, in a charming 
Pompeian wall-painting, has in her hand a double tablet, while 
with her other hand she holds a pencil to her chin, as if ponder¬ 
ing over a letter. Her nurse looking over her shoulder tries to 
decipher the contents of the love-letter. Besides these tablets, 
Herodotus mentions the use of paper made of the bark of the 
Egyptian papyrus-plant. The stalk (three or four feet in length) 
was cut longitudinally, after which the outer bark was first taken 
off; the remaining layers of bark, about twenty in number, were 
carefully severed with a pin; and, afterwards, the single stripes 
plaited crosswise; by means of pressing and perforating the 
whole with lime-water, the necessary consistency of the material 
was obtained. The lower layers of bark yielded the best wri¬ 
ting-paper, while the outer layers were made into packing-paper 
(emftoretica); the uppermost bark was used for making ropes. 
A case of this kind full of parchment rolls, with a cover to it, 
stands by the side of Klio in a wall-painting of Herculaneum. 
In her left hand the muse holds a half-opened roll on which are 
inscribed the words u Klio teaches history.” The ink was made 
©f a black coloring substance; it was kept in an inkstand made 
of metal, with a cover to it. Double inkstands, frequently seen 
on monuments, were most likely destined for the keeping of 
black and red inks, the latter of which was frequently used. To 
write on paper or parchment, the ancients used the Memphie, 
Gnidic, or Anaitic reeds, pointed and split like our pens. As 
we mentioned before, it was the custom of adults to write either 
reclining on the kline, with the leaf resting on the bent leg, or 
sitting- in a low arm-chair, in which case the writing apparatus 
was supported by the knee of the writer. The latter posture is 
exemplified by a reading epfiebos in a vase-painting; it was, un¬ 
doubtedly, also that of the boys sitting on the rising steps used 


214 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


as forms at the schools. After his elementary education was 
completed, the boy was made acquainted with the works of 
national poetry, particularly with the poems of Homer, the 
learning by heart and reciting of which inspired him with 
patriotic pride. 

Of the marriage contracts of the Egyptians we are entirely 
ignorant, nor do we even find the ceremony represented in the 
paintings of their tombs. We may, however, conclude that they 
were regulated by the customs usual among civilized nations ; 
and, if the authority of Diodorus can be credited, women were 
indulged with greater privileges in Egypt than in any other 
country. He even affirms that part of the agreement entered into 
at the time of marriage was, that the wife should have control 
over her husband, and that no objection should be made to her 
commands , whatever they might be; but, though we have suffi¬ 
cient to convince us of the superior treatment of women among 
the Egyptians, as well from ancient authors as from the sculp¬ 
tures that remain, it may fairly be doubted if those indulgences 
were carried to the extent mentioned by the historian, or that 
command extended beyond the management of the house, and the 
regulation of domestic affairs. 

It is, however, remarkable that the royal authority and su¬ 
preme direction of affairs were entrusted without reserve to 
women, as in those states of modern Europe where the Salic law 
has not been introduced; and we not only find examples in Egyp¬ 
tian history of queens succeeding to the throne, but Manetho in¬ 
forms us that the law, according this important privilege to the 
other sex, dated as early as the reign of Binothris, the third 
monarch of the second dynasty. 

In primitive ages the duties of women were very different 
from those of later and more civilized periods, and varied of 
course according to the habits of each people. Among pastoral 
tribes they drew water, kept the sheep, and superintended the 


FAMILIES, SCHOOLS AND MARRIAGES. 


2I 5 


hei ds as well as flocks. As with the Arabs of the present day, 
they prepared both the furniture and the woolen stuffs of which 
the tents themselves were made, ground the corn, and performed 
other menial offices. They were also engaged, as in ancient 
Greece, in weaving, spinning, needlework, embroidery, and other 
sedentary occupations within doors. 

The Egyptian ladies in like manner employed much of their 
time with the needle; and the sculptures represent many females 
weaving and using the spindle. But they were not kept in the 
same secluded manner as those of ancient Greece, who, besides 
being confined to certain apartments in the house, most remote 
from the hall oi entrance, and generally in the uppermost part of 
the building, were not even allowed to go out of doors without a 
veil, as in many Oriental countries at the present day. 

The Egyptians treated their women very differently, as the 
accounts of ancient authors and the sculptures sufficiently prove. 
At some of the public festivals women were expected to attend— 
not alone, like the Moslem women at a mosque, but in company 
with their husbands or relations; and Josephus states that on an 
occasion of this kind, u when it was the custom for women to go 
to the public solemnity, the wife of Potiphar, having pleaded ill 
health in order to be allowed to stay at home, was excused from 
attending,” and availed herself of the absence of her husband to 
talk with Joseph. 

That it was the custom of the Egyptians to have only one 
wife, is shown by Herodotus and the monuments, which present 
so many scenes illustrative of their domestic life; and Diodorus 
is wrong in supposing that the laity were allowed to marry any 
number, while the priests were limited to one. 

But a very objectionable custom, which is not only noticed 
by Diodorus, but is fully authenticated by the sculptures both of 
Upper and Lower Egypt, existed among them from the earliest 
times, the origin and policy of which it is not easy to explain— 




2 16 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


the marriage of brother and sister—which Diodorus supposes to 
have been owing to, and sanctioned by, that ol Isis and Osiris ; 
but as this was purely an allegorical fable, and these ideal person¬ 
ages never lived on earth, his conjecture is of little weight; nor 
does any ancient writer offer a satisfactory explanation of so 
strange a custom. 

Though the Egyptians confined themselves to one wife, they, 
like the Jews and other Eastern nations, both of ancient and 
modern times, scrupled not to admit other inmates to their 
hareem , most of whom appear to have been foreigners, either 
taken in war, or brought to Egypt to be sold as slaves. They 
became members of the family, like those in Moslem countries at 
the present day, and not only ranked next to the wives and chil¬ 
dren of their lord, but probably enjoyed a share of the property 
at his death. 

These women were white or black slaves, according to the 
countries from which they were brought; but, generally speak¬ 
ing, the latter were employed merely as domestics, who were re¬ 
quired to wait upon their mistress and her female friends. The 
former, likewise, officiated as servants, though they of course 
held a rank above the black slaves. 

The same custom prevailed among the Egyptians regarding 
children, as with the Moslems and other Eastern people; no dis¬ 
tinction being made between their offspring by a wife or any 
other woman, and all equally enjoying the rights of inheritance; 
for, since they considered a child indebted to the father for its 
existence, it seemed unjust to deny equal rights to all his 
progeny. 

In speaking of the duties of children in Egypt, Herodotus 
declares, that if a son was unwilling to maintain his parents he 
was at liberty to refuse, but that a daughter, on the contrary, 
was compelled to assist them, and, on refusal, was amenable to 
law. But we may question the truth of this statement; and, 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 


21 7‘ 


drawing an inference from the marked severity of filial duties 
among the Egyptians, some of which we find distinctly alluded 
to in the sculptures of Thebes, we may conclude that in Egypt 
much more was expected from a son than in any civilized nation 
of the present day ; and this was not confined to the lower 
orders, but extended to those of the highest ranks of society. 
And if the office of fan-bearer was an honorable post, and the sons 
of the monarch were preferred to fulfill it, no ordinary show of 
humility was required on their part; and they walked on foot be¬ 
hind his chariot, bearing certain insignia over their father during 
the triumphal processions which took place in commemoration 
of his victories, and in the religious ceremonies over which he 
presided. 

It was equally a custom in the early times of European his- 
tory, that a son should pay a marked deference to his parent; and 
no prince was allowed to sit at table with his father, unless 
through his valor, having been invested with arms by a foreign 
sovereign, he had obtained that privilege; as was the case with 
Alboin, before he succeeded his father on the throne of the Lom¬ 
bards. The European nations were not long in altering their 
early habits, and this custom soon became disregarded; but a 
respect for ancient institutions, and those ideas, so prevalent in 
the East, which reject all love of change, prevented the Egyptians 
from discarding the usages of their ancestors; and we find this and 
many other primitive customs retained, even at the period when 
they were most highly civilized. 

In the education of youth they were particularly strict; and 
“they knew,” says Plato, “that children ought to be early accus¬ 
tomed to such gestures, looks, and motions as are decent and 
proper, and not to be suffered either to hear or learn any verses 
and songs, than those which are calculated to inspire them with 
virtue; and they consequently took care that every dance and ode 
introduced at their feasts or sacrifices should be subject to certain 
regulations.” 


2 18 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


They particularly inculcated respect for old age; and the 
fact of this being required even towards strangers, argues a great 
regard for the person of a parent; for we are informed that, like 
the Israelites and the Lacedaemonians, they required every young 
man to give place to his superiors in years, and even, if seated, 
to rise on their approach. 

Nor were these honors limited to their lifetime; the memory 
of parents and ancestors was revered through succeeding genera¬ 
tions; their tombs were maintained with the greatest respect; 
liturgies were performed by their children, or by priests at their 
expense; and we have previously seen what advantage was taken 
of this feeling, in the laws concerning debt. 

“For of all people ,' 0 says Diodorus, “ the Egyptians retain the 
highest sense of a favor conferred upon them, deeming it the 
greatest charm of life to make a suitable return for benefits they 
have received ; 0 and from the high estimation in which the feel¬ 
ing of gratitude was held among them, even strangers felt a rev¬ 
erence for the character of the Egyptians. 

Through this impulse, they were induced to solemnize the 
funeral obsequies of their kings with the enthusiasm described by 
the historian; and to this he partly attributes the unexampled 
duration of the Egyptian monarchy. 

It is only doing justice to the modern Egyptians to say that 
gratitude is still a distinguishing trait of their character ; and 
this is one of the many qualities inherited by them, for which 
their predecessors were remarkable ; confirming what we have 
before stated, that the general peculiarities of a people are re¬ 
tained, though a country may be conquered, and nominally 
peopled by a foreign race. 


o 



pRE^, pOILET AND JEWELRY. 

We now come to the dress of the Ancients. We shall have 
to consider those articles of dress used as a protection against 
the weather, and those prescribed by decency or fashion, also the 
coverings of the head and the feet, the arrangement of the hair 
and the ornaments. Unfortunately, the terminology is, in many 
cases, uncertain. Many points, therefore, must remain unde¬ 
cided. Before entering upon details, we must remark that the 
dress of the Greeks, compared with modern fashion, was extremely 
simple and natural. Owing to the warmth of the climate and 
the taste of the inhabitants, both superfluous and tight articles 
of dress were dispensed with. Moreover, the body was allowed 
to develop its natural beauty in vigorous exercise; and in this 
harmony and beauty of the limbs the Greeks prided themselves, 
which, of course, reacted favorably on the character of the 
dress. 

Identical with this in form is the chiton worn by Doric 
women. It was simple, short-skirted, and with a slit in the 
upper part at both sides. It was fastened with clasps over both 
shoulders, and shortened as far as the knees by means of pulling 
it through the girdle. In this form it is worn by two maidens 
in the Louvre, destined for the service of the Lakonian Artemis 
at Karyae. They carry kinds of baskets on their heads, and 
are performing the festive dance in honor of the goddess. The 
exomis is worn by the female statue in the Vatican known as the 
u Springing Amazon,” and also by statues of Artemis, and rep- 

219 













220 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


resentations of that goddess on gems and coins. The long 
chiton for women reaching down to the feet, and only a little 
pulled up at the girdle, we see in a vase painting, representing 
dancing youths and maidens, the former wearing the short, the 
latter the long, chiton. A development of the long chiton is the 
double-chiton. It was a very large, oblong piece of woven cloth, 
left open on one side, like the Doric chiton for men. It was 
equal to about one and a half lengths of the body. The over¬ 
hanging part of the cloth was folded round the chest and back, 
from the neck downwards, the upper edge being arranged round 

and the two open cor- 
ped together on one 
shoulder. On this 
open side, therefore, 
the naked body was 
visible. Over the 
other shoulder the upper edge of the chiton was also fastened 
with a clasps—these clasps, as seen in annexed cuts, were elaborate 
ornaments, some being richly 
bejeweled, others being made 
of wrought gold—the arm being 
put through the opening left 
between this clasp and the corresponding corner of the cloth. 

In the same way was arranged the half-open chiton, the 
open side of which, from the girdle to the lower hem, was 
sewed up. A bronze statuette illustrates this way of putting it 
on. A young girl is about to join together on her left shoulder 
the chiton, which is fastened over the right shoulder by means 
ol an agraffe. It appears clearly that the whole chiton consists 
ol one piece. Together with the open and half-open kinds of 
the chiton, we also find the closed double-chiton flowin<2 down to 
the feet. It was a piece of cloth considerably longer than the 
human body, and closed on both sides, inside of which the per- 













THE CHITON. 


221 


son putting it on stood as in a cylinder. As in the chiton of the 
second form, the overhanging part of the cloth was turned out¬ 
ward, and the folded rim pulled up as far as the shoulders, across 
which (first on the right, and after it on the left side) the front 
and back parts were fastened together by means of clasps, the 
arms being put through the two openings affected in this manner. 
Round the hips the chiton was fastened by means of a girdle, 
through which the bottom part of the dress trailing along the 
ground was pulled up just far enough to let the toes be visible. 
Above the girdle the chiton was arranged in shorter or longer 
picturesque folds. The chief alterations of varying fashion 
applied to the arrangement of the diploidion which reached 



either to the part under the bosom or was prolonged as far as 
the hips; its front and back parts might either be clasped to¬ 
gether across the shoulders, or the two rims might be pulled 
across the upper arm as far as the elbow, and fastened in several 
places by means of buttons or agraffes, so that the naked arm 
became visible in the intervals, by means of which the sleeveless 
chiton received the appearance of one with sleeves. Where the 
diploidion was detached from the chiton, it formed a kind of 
handsome cape, which, however, in its shape, strictly resembled 
the Diploidion proper. Its shape was considerably modified by 
fashion, taking sometimes the form of a close-fitting jacket, at 
others (when the sides remained open) that of a kind of shawl, 
the ends of which sometimes equaled in length the chiton itself. 


















222 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


In the latter ease, the ampechonion was naturally at least three 
times as long as it was wide. In antique pictures women some¬ 
times wear a second shorter chiton over the other. A great 
many varieties of dress, more distinguishable in the vase-paint¬ 
ings, representing realistic scenes, than in the ideal costumes of 
sculptural types, we must omit, particularly as, in most cases, 
they may be reduced to the described general principles. 

From the chiton we now pass to the articles of dress of the 
nature of cloaks. They also show throughout an oblong form, 
differing in this essentially from the Roman toga. It, belonging 
to this class, was arranged so that the one corner was thrown 
over the left shoulder in front, so as to be attached to the body 
by means of the left arm. On the back the dress was pulled 
toward the right side so as to cover it completely up to the right 
shoulder, or, at least, to the armpit, in which latter case the 
right shoulder remained uncovered. Finally, the himation was 
again thrown over the left shoulder, so that the ends fell over the 
back. 

Concerning the materials of the described garments, we have 
mentioned before that linen was used principally by the Ionians, 
wool by the Dorians; the latter material in the course of time 
became the rule for male garments all over Greece. The change 
of seasons naturally required a corresponding modification in the 
thickness of these woolen garments; accordingly we notice the 
difference between summer and winter dresses. For women’s 
dresses, besides sheep’s wool and linen, byssos, most likely a kind 
of cotton, was commonly used. Something like the byssos, but 
much finer, was the material of which the celebrated transparent 
dresses were woven in the Isle of Amorgos; they consisted 
of the fibre of a fine sort of flax, undoubtedly resembling our 
muslins and cambrics. The introduction of silk into Greece is 
of later date, while in Asia it was kno^vn at a very early period. 
From the interior of Asia the silk was imported into Greece, 


DRESS MATERIALS. 


22 3 


partly in its raw state, partly worked into dresses. Ready-made 
dresses of this kind differed greatly from the dresses made in 
Greece of the imported raw silk. The Isle of Kos was the first 
seat of silk manufacture, where silk dresses were produced 
rivaling in transparency the above-mentioned. These diaph¬ 
anous dresses, clinging close to the body, and allowing the 
color of the skin and the veins to be seen, have been frequently 
imitated with astonishing skill by Greek sculptors and painters. 
We only remind the reader of the beautifully modeled folds of 
the chiton covering the upper part of the body of Niobe’s young¬ 
est daughter, in a kneeling position, who seeks shelter in the lap 
of her mother; in painting, several wall-pictures of Pompeii may 
be cited. 

The antiquated notion of white having been the universal 
color of Greek garments, a colored dress being considered im¬ 
modest, has been refuted by Becker. It is, however, likely that, 
with the cloak-like epiblememata, white was the usual color, as 
is still the case amongst Oriental nations much exposed to the 
sun. Brown cloaks are, however, by no means unusual; neither 
were they amongst Greek men. Party-colored Oriental gar¬ 
ments were also used, at least by the wealthy Greek classes, both 
for male and female dresses, while white still remained the favor¬ 
ite color with modest Greek women. This is proved, not to 
mention written evidence, by a number of small painted statuettes 
of burnt clay, as also by several pictures on lekythoi from Attic 
graves. The original colors of the dresses, although (particularly 
the reds) slightly altered from the burning process, may still be 
distinctly recognized. 

The dresses were frequently adorned with interwoven patterns, 
or attached borders and embroideries. From Babylon and Phry¬ 
gia, the ancient seats of the weaving and embroidering arts, these 
crafts spread over the occidental world, the name “ Phrygiones, ” 
used in Rome at a later period for artists of this kind, reminding 


224 


DOMESTIC EIFEo 


one of this origin. As we learn from the monuments, the simplest 
border either woven or sewed to the dresses, consisted of one or 
more dark stripes, either parallel with the seams of the chiton, 
himation, and ampechonion, or running down to the hem of the 
chiton from the girdle at the sides or from the throat in front. 
The vertical ornaments correspond to the Roman clavus . Be¬ 



sides these ornaments in stripes, we also meet with others broader 
and more complicated; whether woven into, or sewed on, the 
dress seems doubtful. They cover the chiton from the hem up¬ 
wards to the knee, and above the girdle up to the neck, as is seen 
in the chiton worn by the spring goddess Opora, in a vase-paint¬ 
ing. The whole chiton is sometimes covered with star or dice 
patterns, particularly on vases of the archaic style. The vase- 
painters of the decaying period chiefly represent Phrygian dresses 
with gold fringes and sumptuous embroideries of palmetto 
and u meandering” patterns, such as were worn by the luxurious 
South-Italian Greeks. Such a sumptuous dress is worn by Medea 
in a picture of the death of Talos on an Apulian amphora in the 
Jatta collection at Ruvo. In the same picture the chitones of 
Kastor and Polydeukes, and those of the Argonautai, are covered 
with palmetto embroideries, the edges at the bottom showing 
mythological scenes on the dark ground. 

In the cities Greeks walked mostly bareheaded, owing most 
likely to the more plentiful hair of southern nations, which, more¬ 
over, was cultivated by the Greeks with particular care. Travel- 
• ers, hunters, and such artificers as were particularly exposed to 
the sun, used light coverings for their heads. The different forms 








STYLES OF WEARING HAIR. 


225 

of these may be classified. They were made of the skins of 
dogs, weasels, or cows. 

The hair is considered in Homer as one of the greatest signs 
of male beauty among the long-haired Achaioi; no less were the 
well-arranged locks of maidens and women praised by the tragic 
poets. Among the Spartans it became a sacred custom, derived 
from the laws of Lykurgos, to let the hair of the boy grow as 
soon as he reached the age of the ephebos, while up to that time 
it was cut short. This custom prevailed among the Spartans up 
to their being overpowered by the Achaic federation. Altogether 
the Dorian character did not admit of much attention being paid 
to the arrangement of the hair. Only on solemn occasions, for 
instance on the eve of the battle of Thermopylae, the Spartans 
arranged their hair with particular care. 

At Athens, about the time of the Persian wars, men used to 
wear their hair long, tied on to the top of the head in a knot, 
which was fastened by a hair-pin in the form of a cicada. Of this 
custom, however, the monuments offer no example. Only in the 
pictures of two Pankratiastai, on a monument dating most likely 
from Roman times, we discover an analogy to this old Attic cus¬ 
tom. After the Persian war, when the dress and manners of the 
Ionians had undergone a change, it became the custom to cut off 
the long hair of the boys on their attaining the age of epheboi, 
and devote it as an offering to a god, for instance, to the Delphic 
Apollo or some local river-god. Attic citizens, however, by no 
means wore their hair cropped short, like their slaves, but used 
to let it grow according to their own taste or the common fashion. 
Only dandies, as, for instance, Alkibiades, let their hair fall down 
to their shoulders in long locks. Philosophers also occasionally 
attempted to revive old customs by wearing their hair long. 

The beard was carefully attended to by the Greeks. The 
barber’s shop, with its talkative inmate, was not only frequented 
by those requiring the services of the barber in cutting the hair, 

15 


226 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


shaving, cutting the nails and corns, and tearing out small hairs, 
but it was also, as Plutarch says, a symposion without wine, 
where political and local news were discussed. Alkiphron 
depicts a Greek barber in the following words: u You see how 

the d-d barber in yon street has treated me; the talker, who 

puts up the Brundisian looking-glass, and makes his knives to 
clash harmoniously. I went to him to be shaved; he received 
me politely, put me in a high chair, enveloped me in a clean 
towel, and stroked the razor gently down my cheek, so as to 
remove the thick hair. But this was a malicious trick of his. 
Pie did it partly, not all over the chin; some places he left rough, 
others he made smooth without my noticing it.” After the 

time of Alexander the Great, a barber’s business became lucra- 

% 

tive, owing to the custom of wearing a full beard being aban¬ 
doned, notwithstanding the remonstrances of several states.* In 
works of art, particularly in portrait statues, the beard is always 
treated as an individual characteristic. It is mostly arranged in 
graceful locks, and covers the chin, lips and cheeks, without a 
separation being made between whiskers and moustache. Only 
in archaic renderings the wedge-like beard is combed in long 
wavy lines, and the whiskers are strictly parted from the mous¬ 
tache. As an example we quote the nobly formed head of Zeus 
crowned with the stephane in the Talleyrand collection. The 
usual color of the hair being dark, fair hair was considered a 
great beauty. Homer gives yellow locks to Menelaos, Achilles, 
and Meleagros; and Euripides describes Menelaos and Dionysos 
as fair-haired. 

The head-dress of women was in simple taste. Hats were 
not worn, as a rule, because, at least in Athens, the appearance 
of women in the public street was considered improper, and 

* According to tradition, many Makedonians were killed by the Persians taking 
hold of their long beards, and pulling them to the ground. Alexander, in consequence, 
had his troops shaved during the battle. 



HEAD-DRESS OF WOMEN. 


227 


therefore happened only on exceptional occasions. On journeys 
women wore a light broad-brimmed petasos as a protection from 
the sun. With a Thessalian hat ol this kind Ismene appears in 
CEdipus in KolonosA dhe head-dress ol Athenian ladies at 
home and in the street consisted, beyond the customary veil, 



HAIR-DRESS. (From Pompeii.) 


chiefly of different contrivances for holding together their plenti¬ 
ful hair. We mentioned before, that the himation was some¬ 
times pulled over the back of the head like a veil. But at a 
very early period Greek women wore much shorter or longer 
veils, which covered the face up to the eyes, and fell over the 
neck and back in large folds, so as to cover, if necessary, the 
whole upper part of the body. The care bestowed on the hair 
was naturally still greater amongst women than amongst men. 
Cut shows a number of heads of Athenian women, taken from 
an old painting of Pompeii. These, and the numerous heads 
represented in sculptures and gems, give an idea of the exquisite 
taste of these head-dresses. At the same time, it must be con¬ 
fessed that most modern fashions, even the ugly ones, have their 
models, if not in Greek, at least in Roman antiquity. The 





228 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


combing of the hair over the back in wavy lines was undoubtedly 
much in lavor. A simple ribbon tied round the head, in that 
case, connected the front with the back hair. This arrangement 
we meet with in the maidens of the Parthenon frieze and in a 
bust of Niobe. On older monuments, for instance, in the group 
of the Graces on the triangular altar in the Louvre, the front 
hair is arranged in small ringlets, while the back hair partly falls 
smoothly over the neck, and partly is made into long curls 
hanging 1 down to the shoulders. It was also not unusual to comb 
back the front hair over the temples and ears, and tie it, together 
with the back hair, into a graceful knot. Plere, also, the above- 
mentioned ribbon was used. It consisted ol a stripe ol cloth or 
leather, frequently adorned, where it rested on the forehead, with 
a plaque of metal formed like a frontal. This stephane appears 
on monuments mostly in the hair ot goddesses; the ribbon be¬ 
longing to it, in that case, takes the form of a broad metal circle 
destined no more to hold together, but to decorate the hair. 
This is the case in a bust of Here in the Villa Ludovisi, in the 
statue of the same goddess in the Vatican, and in a statue of 
Aphrodite found at Capua. Besides this another ornamented tie 
of cloth or leather was used by the Greeks, broad in the centre 
and growing narrower towards both ends. Its shape had great 
similarity to the sling. It was either put with its broader side 
on the front of the head, the ends, with ribbons tied to them, be¬ 
ing covered by the thick black hair, or vice versa; in which latter 
case the ends were tied on the forehead in an elaborate knot. 
The net, and after it the kerchief, were developed from the simple 
ribbon, in the same manner as straps on the feet gradually became 
boots. 

The kekryphalos proper consists of a net-like combination of 
ribbon and gold thread, thrown over the back hair to prevent it 
from dropping. The large tetradrachmai of Syrakuse, bearing 
the signature of the engraver, Kimon, show a beautiful head of 


HAIR-PINS. 


229 


Arethusa adorned with the kekryphalos. More frequent is the 
coif-like kekryphalos covering the whole hair, or only the back 
hair, and tied into a knot at the top. 

The modifications of the sakkos, and the way of its being 
tied, are chiefly illustrated by vase-paintings. At the present day 
the Greek women of Thessaly and the Isle of Chios wear a head¬ 
dress exactly resembling the antique sakkos. The acquaintance 
of the Greeks with the curling-iron and cosmetic mysteries, such 
as oil and pomatum, can be proved both by written evidence and 
pictures. It quite tallied with the aesthetical notions of the Greeks 
to shorten the forehead ,by dropping the hair over it, many ex¬ 
amples of which, in pictures of both men and women, are pre¬ 
served to us. 

We conclude our remarks about dress with the description 
of some ornaments, the specimens of which in Greek graves and 
in sculptural imitations are numerous. In Homer the wooers try 
to gain the favor of Penelope with golden breastpins, agraffes, 
ear-rings, and chains. Hephaistos is, in the same work, men¬ 
tioned as the artificer of beautiful rings and hair-pins. The same 
ornaments we meet with again at a later period as important 
articles of female dress. 

Many preserved specimens show the great skill of Greek 
goldsmiths 1 breastpins. Hair-pins, in our sense, and combs for 
parting and holding up the hair were unknown to the Greeks. 
The double or simple comb of Greek ladies, made of box-wood, 
ivory, or metal, was used only for combing the hair. The back 
hair was prevented from dropping by means of long hair-pins, the 
heads of which frequently consisted of a graceful piece of sculp¬ 
ture. Well known are the hair-pins adorned with a golden cicada 
which, in Solon's time, were used by both Athenian men and 
women for the fastening of the krobylos. 

It was the custom of the Greeks to adorn their heads on fes¬ 
tive occasions with wreaths and garlands. Thus adorned the 


2 3 0 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


bridegroom led home the bride. Flowers lull ol symbolic mean¬ 
ing were offered on the altars ol the gods, and the topers at 
carousals were crowned with wreaths ol myrtle, roses, and violets, 
the latter being the favorite flower with the Athenians. The 
flower-market of Athens was always supplied with garlands to 
twine round the head and the upper part of the body; for the lat¬ 
ter also was adorned with garlands. Crowns consisting of other 
flowers, and leaves of the ivy and silver-poplar, are frequently 
mentioned. Wreaths also found a place in the serious business 
of life. They were awarded to the victors in the games; the 
archon wore a myrtle-wreath as the sign of his dignity, as did 

4 

also the orator while speaking to the people from the tribune. 

The crowning- with flowers was a high honor to Athenian 
citizens—awarded, for instance, to Perikles, but refused to Milti- 
ades. The head and bier of the dead were also crowned with 
fresh wreaths of myrtle and ivy. 

The luxury of later times changed the wreaths of flowers 
for golden ones, with regard to the dead of the richer classes. 
Wreaths made of thin gold have repeatedly been found in graves. 
The barrows of the old Pantikapaion have yielded several beauti¬ 
ful wreaths of ivy and ears of corn; a gold imitation of a crown 
of myrtle has been found in a grave in Ithaka. Other specimens 
from Greek and Roman graves are preserved in our museums. 
A golden crown of Greek workmanship, found at Armento, a vil¬ 
lage of the Basilicata (at present in Munich), is particularly re¬ 
markable. A twig of oak forms the ground, from among the 
thin golden leaves of which spring forth asters with chalices of 
blue enamel, convolvulus, narcissus, ivy, roses, and myrtle, grace¬ 
fully intertwined. On the upper bend of the crown is the image 
of a winged goddess, from the head of which, among pieces ot 
grass, rises the slender stalk of a rose. Four naked male genii 
and two draped female ones, floating over the flowers, point 
towards the goddess, who stands on a pedestal bearing an in¬ 
scription. 



SUNSHADES. 


2 3 I 


Greek, particularly Athenian, women carried a sunshade, or 
employed slaves to hold it over them. In the Panathenaic pro¬ 
cession even the daughters of metoikoi had to perform this ser¬ 
vice. Such sunshades, which, like our own, could be shut by 
means of wires, we often see depicted on vases and Etruscan 
mirrors. This form was undoubtedly the most common one. 
The cap-like sunshade painted on a skyphos, which a Silenus, in¬ 
stead of a servant, holds over a dignified lady walking in front 
of him, is undoubtedly intended as a parody, perhaps copied from 
the scene of a comedy. In vase paintings we also see frequently 
the leaf-like painted fan in the hands of women. 



TOILET ARTICLES FOUND AT POMPLII. 


The above articles were in good preservation when found. 
<2, /, n , are hand-mirrors; m , is a wall-mirror; c, toilet-box, made 
of ivory and beautifully carved; d and £, bronze combs; /, fine 
comb; b, ear and tooth-pick; f pin-box, with glass and steel pins; 
//, salve-box; g hair-pins made of ivory and gold; e, is a pow¬ 
der or paint-box. 

Of the secrets of Greek toilette we will only disclose the fact 
that ladies knew the use of paint. The white they used con¬ 
sisted of white-lead; their reds were made either of red minium 
or of a root. This unwholesome fashion of painting was even 
extended to the eyebrows, for which black color was used, made 
either of pulverized antimony or of fine soot. 


















































2 3 2 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


The mirrors of the Greeks consisted of circular pieces of 
polished bronze, either without a handle or with one richly 
adorned. Frequently a cover, for the reflecting surface, was 
added. The Etruscan custom of engraving figures on the back 
of the mirror or the cover seems to have been rare among the 
Greeks, to judge, at least, from the numerous specimens of mir¬ 
rors found in Greek graves. Characteristic of these are, on the 
other hand, the tasteful handles, representing mostly Aphrodite, 
as in a manner the ideal of a beautifully adorned woman. These 
hand-mirrors frequently occur in vase paintings, particularly in 
those containing bathing utensils. 

The carrying of a stick seems to have been a common cus¬ 
tom. It is mostly of great length, with a crutched handle; 
young Athenian dandies may have used shorter walking-sticks. 
The first-mentioned sticks seem to have been used principally for 
leaning upon in standing still, as is indicated by frequent repre¬ 
sentations in pictures. 















pRIMEg AND PuNIgHJAENTp; pOJITRACTg, 

Peed?, £tc. 

Truth or justice was thought to be the main cardinal virtue 
among the Egyptians, inasmuch as it relates more particularly to 
others; prudence, temperance, and fortitude being relative quali¬ 
ties, and tending chiefly to the immediate benefit of the individual 
who possesses them. It was, therefore, with great earnestness that 
they inculcated the necessity of fully appreciating it; and false¬ 
hood was not only considered disgraceful, but when it entailed an 
injury on any other person was punishable by law. 

A calumniator of the dead was condemned to a severe pun¬ 
ishment; and a false accuser was doomed to the same sentence 
which would have been awarded to the accused, if the offense 
had been proved against him; but to maintain a falsehood by an 
oath was deemed the blackest crime, and one which, from its 
complicated nature, could be punished by nothing short of death. 
For they considered that it involved two distinct crimes—a con¬ 
tempt for the gods, and a violation of faith towards man; the for¬ 
mer the direct promoter of every sin, the latter destructive of all 
those ties which are most essential for the welfare of society. 

The willful murder of a freeman, or even of a slave , was 
punished with death, from the conviction that men ought to be 
restrained from the commission of sin, not on account of any dis¬ 
tinction of station in life, but from the light in which they viewed 
the crime itself; while at the same time it had the effect of show¬ 
ing that if the murder of a slave was deemed an offense deserv- 


2 33 





2 34 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


ing of so severe a punishment, they ought still more to shrink 
from the murder of one who was a compatriot and a free-born 
citizen. 

In this law we observe a scrupulous regard to justice and 
humanity, and have an unquestionable proof of the great advance¬ 
ment made by the Egyptians in the most essential points of civ¬ 
ilization. Indeed, the Egyptians considered it so heinous a crime 
to deprive a man of life, that to be the accidental witness of an 
attempt to murder, without endeavoring to prevent it, was a cap¬ 
ital offense, which could only be palliated by bringing proofs of 
inability to act. 

With the same spirit they decided that to be present when 
any one inflicted a personal injury on another, without interfering, 
was tantamount to being a party, and was punishable according 
to the extent of the assault; and every one who witnessed a rob¬ 
bery was bound either to arrest, or, if that was out of his power, 
to lay an information, and to prosecute the offenders; and any 
neglect on this score being proved against him, the delinquent 
was condemned to receive a stated number of stripes, and to be 
kept without food for three whole days. 

Although, in the case of murder, the Egyptian law was in¬ 
exorable and severe, the royal prerogative might be exerted in 
favor of a culprit, and the punishment was sometimes commuted 
by a mandate from the king. 

Sabaco, indeed, during the fifty years of his reign, “ made it 
a rule not to punish his subjects with death,” whether guilty of 
murder or any other capital offence, but, u according to the mag¬ 
nitude of their crimes, he condemned the culprits to raise the 
ground about the town to which they belonged. By these mearjs 
the situation of the different cities became greatly elevated above 

the reach of the inundation, even more than in the time of Sesos- 

\ 

tris;” and either on account of a greater proportion of criminals, 
or from some other cause, the mounds of Bubastis were raised 
considerably higher than those of any other city. 


PUNISHMENTS. 235 

The same laws that forbade a master to punish a slave with 
death took from a father every right over the life of his offspring; 
and the Egyptians deemed the murder of a child an odious crime, 
that called for the direct interposition of justice. They did not, 
however, punish it as a capital offence, since it appeared incon¬ 
sistent to take away life from one who had given it to the child, 
but preferred inflicting such a punishment as would induce grief 
and repentance. With this view they ordained that the corpse 
of the deceased should be fastened to the neck of its parent, and 
that he should be obliged to pass three whole days and nights in 
its embrace, under the surveillance of a public guard. 

But parricide was visited with the most cruel of chastise¬ 
ments; and conceiving, as they did, that the murder of a parent 
was the most unnatural of crimes, they endeavored to prevent its 
occurrence by the marked severity with which it was avenged. 
The criminal was, therefore, sentenced to be lacerated with 
sharpened reeds, and, after being thrown on thorns, he was burned 
to death. 

When a woman was guilty of a capital offence, and judg¬ 
ment had been passed upon her, they were particularly careful to 
ascertain if the condemned was in a state of pregnancy; in which 
case her punishment was deferred till after the birth of the child, 
in order that the innocent might not suffer with the guilty, and 
thus the father be deprived of that child to which he had at least 
an equal right. 

But some of their laws regarding the female sex were cruel 
and unjustifiable; and even if, which is highly improbable, they 
succeeded by their severity in enforcing chastity, and in putting 
an effectual stop to crime, yet the punishment rather reminds us 
of the laws of a barbarous people than of a wise and civilized 
state. A woman who had committed adultery was sentenced to 
lose her nose, upon the principle that, being the most conspicuous 
feature, and the chief, or, at least, an indispensable, ornament of 


2 3 6 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


the face, its loss would be most severely felt, and be the greatest 
detriment to her personal charms; and the man was condemned 
to receive a bastinado of one thousand blows. But if it was 
proved that force had been used against a free woman, he was 
doomed to a cruel mutilation. 

The object of the Egyptian laws was to preserve life, and to 
reclaim an offender. Death took away every chance of repent¬ 
ance, it deprived the country of his services, and he was hurried 
out of the world when least prepared to meet the ordeal of a fu¬ 
ture state. They, therefore, preferred severe punishments, and, 
except in the case of murder, and some crimes which appeared 
highly injurious to the community, it was deemed unnecessary to 
sacrifice the life of an offender. 

In military as well as civil cases, minor offences were gener¬ 
ally punished with the stick; a mode of chastisement still greatly 
in vogue among the modern inhabitants of the valley of the Nile, 
and held in such esteem by them, that convinced of (or perhaps 
by) its efficacy, they relate u its descent from heaven as a bless¬ 
ing to mankind . 11 

If an Egyptian of the present day has a government debt or 
tax to pay, he stoutly persists in his inability to obtain the money, 
till he has withstood a certain number of blows, and considers 
himself compelled to produce it; and the ancient inhabitants, if 
not under the rule of their native princes, at least in the time of 
the Roman emperors, gloried equally in the obstinacy they 
evinced, and the difficulty the governors of the country experi¬ 
enced in extorting from them what they were bound to pay; 
whence Ammianus Marcellinus tells us, “ an Egyptian blushes if 
he can not show numerous marks on his body that evince his en¬ 
deavors to evade the duties.” 

The bastinado was inflicted on both sexes, as with the Jews. 
Men and boys were laid prostrate on the ground, and frequently 
held by the hands and feet while the chastisement was adminis- 


PUNISHMENTS. 


2 37 


tered; but women, as they sat, received the stripes on their back, 
which was also inflicted by the hand of a man. Nor was it un¬ 
usual for the superintendents to stimulate laborers to their work 
by the persuasive powers of the stick, whether engaged in the 
field or in handicraft employments; and boys were sometimes 
beaten without the ceremony of prostration, the hands being tied 
behind their back while the punishment was applied. 

The character of some of the Egyptian laws was quite con¬ 
sonant with the notions of a primitive age. The punishment was 
directed more particularly against the offending member; and 
adulterators of money, falsifiers of weights and measures, forgers 
of seals or signatures, and scribes who altered any signed docu¬ 
ment by erasures or additions, without the authority of the parties, 
were condemned to lose both their hands. 

But their laws do not seem to have sanctioned the gibbet, or 
the exposure of the body of an offender; for the conduct of 
Rhampsinitus, in the case of the robbery of his treasure, is men¬ 
tioned by Herodotus as a singular mode of discovering an ac¬ 
complice, and not as an ordinary punishment; if, indeed, the 
whole story be not the invention of a Greek cicerone. 

Thefts, breach of trust, and petty frauds were punished with 
the bastinado; but robbery and house-breaking were sometimes 
considered capital crimes, and deserving of death; as is evident 
from the conduct of the thief when caught by the trap in the 
treasury of Rhampsinitus, and from what Diodorus states respect¬ 
ing Actisanes. 

This monarch, instead of putting robbers to death, instituted 
a novel mode of punishing them, by cutting off their noses and 
banishing them to the confines of the desert, where a town was 
built, called Rhinocolura, from the peculiar nature of their pun¬ 
ishment; and thus, by removing the bad, and preventing their 
corrupting the good, he benefited society, without depriving the 
criminals of life; at the same time that he punished them severely 


2 3 8 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


for their crimes, by obliging them to live by their labors, and de¬ 
rive a precarious sustenance from quails, or whatever they could 
catch, in that barren region. Commutation of punishment was 
the foundation of this part of the convict system of Egypt, and 
Rhinocolura was their Norfolk Island, where a sea of sand sepa¬ 
rated the worst felons from those guilty of smaller crimes; who 
were transported to the mines in the desert, and condemned to 
work for various terms, according to their offence. 

The Egyptians had a singular custom respecting theft and 
burglary. Those who followed the profession of thief gave in 
their names to the chief of the robbers; and agreed that he 
should be informed of every thing they might thenceforward 
steal, the moment it was in their possession. In consequence of 
this the owner of the lost goods always applied by letter to the 
chief for their recovery; and having stated their quality and quan¬ 
tity, the day and hour when they were stolen, and other requisite 
particulars, the goods were identified, and, on payment of one 
quarter of their value, they were restored to the applicant in the 
same state as when taken from his house. 

For being fully persuaded of the impracticability of putting 
an entire check to robbery, either by the dread of punishment, 
or by any method that could be adopted by the most vigilant 
police, they considered it more for the advantage of the com¬ 
munity that a certain sacrifice should be made in order to secure 
the restitution of the remainder, than that the law, by taking on 
itself to protect the citizen, and discover the offender, should be 
the indirect cause of greater loss. 

And that the Egyptians, like the Indians, and we may say the 
modern inhabitants of the Nile, were very expert in the art of 
stealing, we have abundant testimony from ancient authors. 

It may be asked, what redress could be obtained, if goods 
were stolen by thieves who failed to enter their names on the 
books of the chief; but it is evident that there could be few of 


V 


LAWS RESPECTING DEBT. 239 

those private peculators, since by their interfering with the in¬ 
terests of all the profession , the detection of such egotistical per¬ 
sons would have been certain; and thus all others were effectually 
prevented from robbing, save those of the privileged class. 

The salary of the chief was not merely derived from his own 
demands upon the goods stolen, or from any voluntary contribu¬ 
tion of the robbers themselves, but was probably a fixed remuner¬ 
ation granted by the government, as one of the chiefs of the 
police; nor is it to be supposed that he was any other than a 
respectable citizen, and a man of integrity and honor. The same 
may be said of the modern u shekh of the thieves,” at Cairo, where 
this very ancient office is still retained. 

The great confidence reposed in the public weighers ren¬ 
dered it necessary to enact suitable laws in order to bind them 
to their duty; and considering how much public property was at 
their mercy, and how easily bribes might be taken from a dis¬ 
honest tradesman, the Egyptians inflicted a severe punishment 
as well on the weighers as on the shopkeepers, who were found 
to have false weights and measures, or to have defrauded the 
customer in any other way; and these, as well as the scribes 
who kept false accounts, were punished (as before stated) with 
the loss of both their hands; on the principle, says Diodorus, 
that the offending member should suffer; while the culprit was 
severely punished, that others might be deterred from the com¬ 
mission of a similar offence. 

As in other countries, their laws respecting debt and usury 
underwent some changes, according as society advanced, and as 
pecuniary transactions became more complicated. 

Bocchoris (who reigned in Egypt about the year 800 B. C., 
and who, from his learning, obtained the surname of Wise), 
finding that in cases of debt many causes of dispute had arisen, 
and instances of great oppression were of frequent occurrence, 
enacted, that no agreement should be binding unless it were 


240 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


acknowledged by a written contract; and if any one took oath 
that the money had not been lent him, that no debt should be 
recognized, and the claims of the suing party should immediately 
cease. This was done, that great regard might always be had 
for the name and nature of an oath, at the same time that, by 
substituting the unquestionable proof of a written document, the 
necessity of having frequent recourse to an oath was avoided, 
and its sanctity was not diminished by constant repetition. 

Usury was in all cases condemned by the Egyptian legisla¬ 
ture; and when money was borrowed, even with a written agree¬ 
ment, it was forbidden to allow the interest to increase to more 
than double the original sum. Nor could the creditors seize the 
debtor’s person: their claims and right were confined to the 
goods in his possession, and such as were really his own; which 
were comprehended under the produce of his labor, or what he 
had received from another individual to whom they lawfully 
belonged. For the person of every citizen was looked upon as 
the property of the state, and might be required for some public 
service, connected either with war or peace; and, independent of 
the injustice of subjecting any one to the momentary caprice of 
his creditor, the safety of the country might be endangered 
through the avarice of a few interested individuals. 

This law, which was borrowed by Solon from the Egyptian 
code, existed also at Athens; and was, as Diodorus observes, 
much more consistent with justice and common sense than that 
which allowed the creditor to seize the person, while it forbade 
him to take the plows and other implements of industry. For 
if, continues the historian, it is unjust thus to deprive men of the 
means of obtaining subsistence, and of providing for their families, 
how much more unreasonable must it be to imprison those by 
whom the implements were used ! 

To prevent the accumulation of debt, and to protect the 
interests of the creditor, another remarkable law was enacted by 


LAWS RESPECTING DEBT. 


2 4 I 


Asychis, which, while it shows how greatly they endeavored to 
check the increasing evil, proves the high respect paid by the 
Egyptians to the memory of their parents, and to the sanctity of 
their religious ceremonies. By this it was pronounced illegal for 
any one to borrow money without giving in pledge the body of 
his father, or the tomb of his ancestors; and, if he failed to re¬ 
deem so sacred a deposit, he was considered infamous; and, at 
his death, the celebration of the accustomed funeral obsequies 
was denied him, and he could not enjoy the right of burial either 
in that tomb or in any other place of sepulture; nor could he 
inter his children, or any of his family, as long as the debt was 
unpaid, the creditor being put in actual possession of the family 
tomb. 

In the large cities of Egypt, a fondness for display, and the 
usual allurements of luxury, were rapidly introduced; and con¬ 
siderable sums were expended in furnishing houses, and in many 
artificial caprices. Rich jewels and costly works of art were in 
great request, as well among the inhabitants of the provincial 
capitals, as at Thebes and Memphis; they delighted in splendid 
equipages, elegant and commodious boats, numerous attendants, 
horses, dogs, and other requisites for the chase; and,, besides, 
their houses, their villas and their gardens, were laid out with 
no ordinary expense. But while the funds arising from extensive 
farms, and the abundant produce of a fertile soil, enabled the 
rich to indulge extravagant habits, many of the less wealthy 
envied the enjoyment of those luxuries which fortune had denied 
to them; and, prompted by vanity, and a silly desire of imita¬ 
tion, so common in civilized communities, they pursued a career 
which speedily led to the accumulation of debt, and demanded 
the interference of the legislature; and it is probable that a law, 
so severe as this must have appeared to the Egyptians, was only 
adopted as a measure of absolute necessity, in order to put a 
check to jthe increasing evil. 

16 


242 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


The necessary expenses of the Egyptians were remarkably 
small, less, indeed, than of any people; and the food of the 
poorer classes was of the cheapest and most simple kind. Owing 
to the warmth of the climate, they required few clothes, and 
young children were in the habit of going without shoes, and 
with little or no covering to their bodies. It was, therefore, 
luxury, and the increasing wants of an artificial kind, which 
corrupted the manners of the Egyptians, and rendered such a 
law necessary for their restraint; and we may conclude that it 
was mainly directed against those who contracted debts for the 
gratification of pleasure, or with the premeditated intent of 
defrauding an unsuspecting creditor. 

In the mode of executing deeds, conveyances, and other 
civil contracts, the Egyptians were peculiarly circumstantial and 
minute; and the great number of witnesses is a singular feature 
in those documents. In the time of the Ptolemies, sales of 
property commenced with a preamble, containing the date of the 
king in whose reign they were executed; the name of the pres¬ 
ident of the court, and of the clerk by whom they were written, 
being also specified. The body of the contract then followed. 

It stated the name of the individual who sold the land, the 
description of his person, an account of his parentage, profession, 
and place of abode, the extent and nature of the land, its situa¬ 
tion and boundaries, and concluded with the name of the pur¬ 
chaser, whose parentage and description were also added, and 
the sum for which it was bought. The seller then vouched for 
his undisturbed possession of it; and, becoming security against 
any attempt to dispute his title, the name of the other party was 
inserted as having accepted it, and acknowledged the purchase. 
The names of witnesses were then affixed;, and, the president of 
the court having added his signature, the deed was valid. Some¬ 
times the seller formally recognized the sale in the following 


manner : 


CONTRACTS. 


2 43 


“All these things have I sold thee: they are thine, I have 
received their price from thee, and will make no demand upon 
thee for them from this day; and if any person disturb thee in 
the possession of them, I will withstand the attempt; and, if I do 
not otherwise repel it, I will use compulsory means, or, I 
will indemnify thee.” 

But, in order to give a more accurate notion of the form of 
these contracts,we shall introduce a copy of the whole of one of 
them, as given by Dr. Young, and refer the reader to others oc¬ 
curring in the same work. u Translation of the enchorial papy¬ 
rus of Paris, containing the original deed relating to the mum¬ 
mies:—‘ This writing dated in the year 36, Athyr 20, in the reign 
of our sovereigns Ptolemy and Cleopatra his sister, the children 
of Ptolemy and Cleopatra the divine, the gods Illustrious: and 
the priest of Alexander, and of the Saviour gods, of the Brother 
gods, of the Beneficent gods, of the Father-loving gods, of the 
Illustrious gods, of the Paternal god, and of the Mother-loving 
gods, being (as by law appointed): and the prize-bearer of Bere¬ 
nice the Beneficent, and the basket-bearer of Arsinoe the Brother- 
loving, and the priestess of Arsinoe the Father-loving, being as 
appointed in the metropolis (of Alexandria); and in (Ptolemais) 
the royal city of the Thebaid? the guardian priest for the year? 
of Ptolemy Soter, and the priest of king Ptolemy the Father- 
loving, and the priest of Ptolemy the Brother-loving, and the 
priest of Ptolemy the Beneficent, and the priest of Ptolemy 
the Mother-loving; and the priestess of queen Cleopatra, and 
the priestess of the princess Cleopatra, and the priestess of 
Cleopatra, the (queen) mother, deceased, the Illustrious; and 
the basket-bearer of Arsinoe the Brother-loving (being as ap- 
. pointed): declares: The Dresser? in the temple of the Goddess, 
Onnophris, the son of Horus, and of Senpoeris, daughter of 
Spotus? (“aged about forty, lively,”) tall (“of a sallow com¬ 
plexion, hollow-eyed, and bald”); in the temple of the god- 


2 44 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


dess to (Horus) his brother? the son of Horus and of Sen- 
poeris, has sold, for a price in money, half of one-third of 
the collections for the dead u priests of Osiris?” lying in 
Thynabunum . . . in the Libyan suburbs of Thebes, in the 
Memnonia . . . likewise half of one-third of the liturgies: their 
names being, Muthes, the son of Spotus, with his children and 
his household; Chapocrates, the son of Nechthmonthes, with his 
children and his household; Arsiesis, the son of Nechthmonthes, 
with his children and his household; Petemestus, the son of 
Nechthmonthes; Arsiesis, the son of Zminis, with his children 
and his household; Osoroeris, the son of Horus, with his children 
and his household; Spotus, the son of Chapochonsis, surnamed ? 
Zoglyphus (the sculptor), with his children and his household ; 
while there belonged also to Asos, the son of Horus and of Sen- 
poeris, daughter of Spotus? in the same manner one-half of a 
third of the collections for the dead, and of the fruits and so forth 
. . . he sold it on the 20th of Athyr, in the reign of the King 

ever-living, to (complete) the third part: likewise the half of one- 
third of the collections relating to Peteutemis, with his household,, 
and . . . likewise the half of one-third? of the collections 

and fruits for Petechonsis, the bearer of milk, and of the . . . 

place on the Asian side, called Phrecages, and . . . the 

dead bodies in it: there having belonged to Asos, the son of 
Horus, one-half of the same: he has sold to him in the month 
of . the half of one-third of the collections for the priests 

of Osiris? lying in Thynabunum, with their children and their 
households: likewise the half of one-third of the collections for 
Peteutemis, and also for Petechonsis, the bearer of milk, in the 
place Phrecages on the Asian side: I have received for them their 
price in silver . . . and gold; and I make no further de¬ 
mand on thee for them from the present day . . . before the 

authorities . . . (and if any one shall disturb thee in the 

possession of them, I will resist him, and, if I do not succeed, I 


CONTRACTS. 


2 45 


will indemnify thee?) . . . Executed and confirmed. Writ¬ 

ten by Horus, the son of Phabis, clerk to the chief priests of 
Amonrasonther, and of the contemplar? Gods, of the Beneficent 
gods, of the Father-loving gods, of the Paternal god, and of the 
Mother-loving gods. Amen. 

“ ‘ Names of the witnesses present: 

Erieus, the son of Phanres Erieus. 

Peteartres, the son of Peteutemis. 

Petearpocrates, the son of Horus. 

Snachomneus, the son of Peteuris. 

Snachomes, the son of Psenchonsis. 

Totoes, the son of Phibis. 

Portis, the son of Appollonius. 

Zminis, the son of Petemestus. 

. Peteutemis, the son of Arsiesis. 

Amonorytius, the son of Pacemis. 

Horus, the son of Chimuaraus. 

Armenis (rather Arbais), the son of Ztlicnaetis. 

■ r ; 

Maesis, the son of Mirsis. 

Antimachus, the son of Antigenes. 

Petophojs, the son of Phibis. 

Panas, the son of Petosiris.’ ” 

In this, as in many other documents, the testimony required 
is very remarkable, sixteen witnesses being thought necessary 
for the sale of a moiety of the sums collected on account of a few 
tombs, and for services performed to the dead, the total value of 
which was only 400 pieces of brass; and the name of each person 
is introduced, in the true Oriental style, with that of his father. 
Nor is it unreasonable to suppose that the same precautions and 
minute formulas were observed in similar transactions during' the 
reigns of the Pharaonic kings, however great may have been the 
change introduced by the Ptolemies and Romans into the laws 
and local government of Egypt. 

The Egyptians paid great attention to health, and “so 
wisely,” says Herodotus, “was medicine managed by them, that 
no doctor was permitted to practice any but his own peculiar 
branch. Some were oculists, who only studied diseases of the 


246 

eye; others attended solely to complaints of the head; others 'to 
those of the teeth; some again confined themselves to complaints 
of the intestines; and others to secret and internal maladies; ac¬ 
coucheurs being usually, if not always, women.” And it is a 
singular fact, that their dentists adopted a method, not very long 
practiced in Europe, of stopping teeth with gold, proofs of which 
have been obtained from some mummies of Thebes. 

They received certain salaries from the public treasury; and 
after they had studied those precepts which had been laid down 
from the experience of their predecessors, they were permitted to 
practice; and, in order to prevent dangerous experiments being 
made upon patients, they might be punished if their treatment 
was contrary to the established system; and the death of a per¬ 
son entrusted to their care, under such circumstances, was ad¬ 
judged to them as a capital offence. 

If, however, every remedy had been administered according 
to the sanitary law, they were absolved from blame; and if the 
patient was not better, the physician was allowed to alter the 
treatment after the third day, or even before, if he took upon 
himself the responsibility. 

Though paid by Government as a body, it was not illegal to 
receive fees for their advice and attendance; and demands could 
be made in every instance except on a foreign journey, and on 
military service; when patients were visited free of expense. 

The principal mode adopted by the Egyptians for preventing 
illness was attention to regimen and diet; “ being persuaded that 
the majority of diseases proceed from indigestion and excess of 
eating;” and they had frequent recourse to abstinence, emetics, 
slight doses of medicine, and other simple means of relieving the 
system, which some persons were in the habit of repeating every 
two or three days. 

“ Those who lived in the corn country,” as Herodotus terms 
it, were particular for their attention to health. “ During three 




wreath of oak. {Life Saving.) 


i 








































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































248 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


successive days, every month, they submitted to a regular course 
of treatment; from the conviction that illness was wont to pro¬ 
ceed from some irregularity in diet;” and it preventives were 
ineffectual, they had recourse to suitable remedies, adopting a 
mode of treatment very similar to that mentioned by Diodorus. 

The employment of numerous drugs in Egypt has been men¬ 
tioned by sacred and profane writers; and the medicinal proper¬ 
ties of many herbs which grow in the deserts, particularly 
between the Nile and Red Sea, are still known to the Arabs; 
though their application has been but imperfectly recorded and 
preserved. 

“O virgin, daughter of Egypt,” says Jeremiah, “in vain 
shalt thou use many medicines, for thou shalt not be cured;” and 
Homer, in the Odyssey, describes the many valuable medicines 
given by Polydamna, the wife of Thonis, to Helen while in 
Egypt, “a country whose fertile soil produces an infinity of drugs, 
some salutary and some pernicious; where each physician pos¬ 
sesses knowledge above all other men.” 

Pliny makes frequent mention of the productions of that 
country, and their use in medicine; he also notices the physicians 
of Egypt; and as if their number were indicative of the many 
maladies to which the inhabitants were subject, he observes, that 
it was a country productive of numerous diseases. In this, how¬ 
ever, he does not agree with Herodotus, who affirms that, “ after 
the Libyans, there are no people so healthy as the Egyptians, 
which may be attributed to the invariable nature of the seasons 
in their country.” 

Pliny even says that the Egyptians examined the bodies after 
death, to ascertain the nature of the diseases of which they had 
died; and we can readily believe that a people so far advanced 
in civilization and the principles of medicine as to assign to each 
physician his peculiar branch, would have resorted to this effec¬ 
tual method of acquiring knowledge and experience. 


SUPERSTITION. 


2 49 

It is c\ ident that the medical science ot the Egyptians was 
sought and appreciated even in foreign countries; and we learn 
irom Herodotus, that Cyrus and Darius both sent to Egypt for 
medical men. In later times, too, they continued to be cele¬ 
brated for their skill; Ammianus says it was enough for a doc¬ 
tor to say he had studied in Egypt to recommend him; and Pliny 
mentions medical men going from Egypt to Rome. But though 
their physicians are oiten noticed by ancient writers, the only in¬ 
dication of medical attendance appears to be in the paintings of 
Beni Hassan; and even there it is uncertain whether a doctor, or 
a barber, be represented. 

Their doctors probably felt the pulse; as Plutarch shows 
they did at Rome, from this saying of Tiberius, “a man after he 
has passed his thirtieth year, who puts forth his hand to a physi¬ 
cian, is ridiculous;” whence our proverb of “ a fool or a physician 
after forty.” 

Diodorus tells us, that dreams were regarded in Egypt with 
religious reverence, and the prayers of the devout were often re¬ 
warded by the gods, with an indication of the remedy their 
sufferings required; and magic, charms, and various supernatural 
agencies, were often resorted to by the credulous; who “sought 
to the idols, and to the charmers, and to them that had familiar 
spirits, and to the wizards.” 

Origen also says, that when any part of the body was afflicted 
with disease, they invoked the demon to whom it was supposed 
to belong, in order to obtain a cure. 

In cases of great moment oracles were consulted; and a 
Greek papyrus found in Egypt mentions divination u through a 
boy with a lamp, a bowl, and a pit;” which resembles the pre¬ 
tended power of the modern magicians of Egypt. The same also 
notices the mode of discovering theft, and obtaining any wish ; 
and though it is supposed to be of the 2d century, the practices it 
alludes to are doubtless from an old Egyptian source; and other 


250 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


similar papyri contain recipes for obtaining good fortune and vari¬ 
ous benefits, or for causing misfortunes to an enemy. 

Some suppose the Egyptians had even recourse to animal 
magnetism, and that dreams indicating cures were the result of 
this influence; and (though the subjects erroneously supposed to 
represent it apply to a very different act) it is not impossible that 
they may have discovered the mode of exercising this art, and 
that it may have been connected with the strange scenes recorded 
at the initiation into the mysteries. If really known, such a 
power would scarcely have been neglected; and it would have 
been easy to obtain thereby an ascendency over the minds of a 
superstitious people. 

Indeed, the readiness of man at all times to astonish on the 
one hand, and to court the marvelous on the other, is abundantly 
proved by present and past experience. That the nervous system 
may be worked upon by it to such a degree that a state either 
of extreme irritability, or of sleep and coma, may be induced, in 
the latter case paralyzing the senses so as to become deadened to 
pain, is certain; and a highly sensitive temperament may exhibit 
phenomena beyond the reach of explanation; but it requires very 
little experience to know that we are wonderfully affected by far 
more ordinary causes; for the nerves may be acted upon to such 
an extent by having as we commonly term it “ our teeth set 
on edge,” that the mere filing a saw would suffice to drive 
any one mad, if unable to escape from its unceasing discord. 
What is this but an effect upon the nerves ? and what more 
could be desired to prove the power of any agency? And the 
world would owe a debt of gratitude to the professors of ani¬ 
mal magnetism, if, instead of making it, as some do, a mere ex¬ 
hibition to display a power, and astonish the beholders, they would 
continue the efforts already begun, for discovering all the bene¬ 
ficial uses to which it is capable of being applied. 

We might then rejoice that, as astrology led to the more 


CURE OF DISEASES. 


2 5 r 

useful knowledge of astronomy, this influence enabled us to com¬ 
prehend our nervous system, on which so many conditions of 
health depend, and with which we are so imperfectly acquainted.. 

The cure of diseases was also attributed by the Egyptians 
to Exvotos offered in the temples. They consisted of various, 
kinds. Some persons promised a certain sum for the maintenance 
of the sacred animals; or whatever might propitiate the deity 
and after the cure had been effected, they frequently suspended a 
model of the restored part in the temple; and ears, eyes, dis¬ 
torted arms, and other members, were dedicated as memorials of 
their gratitude and superstition. 

Sometimes travelers, who happened to pass by a temple, in¬ 
scribed a votive sentence on the walls, to indicate their respect 
for the deity, and solicit his protection during their journey; the 
complete formula of which contained the adoration of the writer, 
with the assurance that he had been mindful of his wife, his fam¬ 
ily, and friends; and the reader of the inscription was sometimes 
included in a share of the blessings it solicited. The date of the 
king’s reign and the day of the month were also added, with the 
profession and parentage of the writer. The complete formula 
of one adoration was as follows: 

“ The adoration of Caius Capitolinus, son of Flavius Julius y 
of the fifth troop of Theban horse, to the goddess Isis, with ten 
thousand names. And I have been mindful of (or have made an 
adoration for) all those who love me, and my consort, and chil¬ 
dren, and all my household, and for him who reads this. In the 
year 12 of the emperor Tiberius Caesar, the 15 of Pauni.” 

The Egyptians, according to Pliny, claimed the honor of 
having invented the art of curing diseases. Indeed, the study of 
medicine and surgery appears to have commenced at a very early 
period in Egypt, since Athothes, the second king of the country, 
is stated to have written upon the subject of anatomy; and the 
schools of Alexandria continued till a late period to enjoy the 


253 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


% 


reputation, and display the skill, they had inherited from their 
predecessors. Hermes was said to have written six books on 
medicine, the first of which related to anatomy; and the various 
recipes, known to have been beneficial, were recorded, with their 
peculiar cases, in the memoirs of physic inscribed among the 
laws deposited in the principal temples. 






















j~f0U£E£, ?\(\LLA£, pARMYA^D^, ^CHARD^, 



The monumental records and various works of art, and, above 
all, the writings, of the Greeks and Romans, have made us ac¬ 
quainted with their customs and their very thoughts; and though 
the literature of the Egyptians is almost unknown, their monu¬ 
ments, especially the paintings in the tombs, have afforded us an 
insight into their mode of life scarcely to be obtained from those 
of any other people. The influence that Egypt had in early times 
on Greece gives to every inquiry respecting it an additional 
interest; and the frequent mention of the Egyptians in the Bible 
connects them with the Hebrew Records, of which many satis¬ 
factory illustrations occur in the sculptures of Pharaonic times. 
Their great antiquity also enables us to understand the condition 
of the world long before the era of written history; all existing 
monuments left by other people are comparatively modern; and 
the paintings in Egypt are the earliest descriptive illustrations of 
the manners and customs of any nation. 

It is from these that we are enabled to form an opinion of 
the character of the Egyptians. They have been pronounced a 
serious, gloomy people, saddened by the habit of abtruse specu¬ 
lation; but how far this conclusion agrees with fact will be 
seen in the sequel. They were, no doubt, less lively than the 
Greeks; but if a comparatively late writer, Ammianus Marcel- 


2 53 







DOMESTIC LIFE. 


2 54 

linus, may have remarked a “ rather sad ” expression, after they 
had been for ages under successive foreign yokes, this can scarcely 
be admitted as a testimony of their character in the early times 
of their prosperity; and though a sadness of expression might be 
observed in the present oppressed population, they can not be 
considered a grave or melancholy people. Much, indeed, may 
be learned from the character of the modern Egyptians; and not* 
withstanding the infusion of foreign blood, particularly of the 
Arab invaders, every one must perceive the strong resemblance 
they bear to their ancient predecessors. It is a common error to 
•suppose that the conquest of a country gives an entirely new 
character to the inhabitants. The immigration of a whole nation 
taking possession of a thinly-peopled country, will have this 
•effect, when the original inhabitants are nearly all driven out by 
the new-comers; but immigration has not always, and conquest 
never has, for its object the destruction or expulsion of the native 
population; they are found useful to the victors, and as necessary 
for them as the cattle or the productions of the soil. Invaders 
are always numerically inferior to the conquered nation—even to 
the male population; and, when the women are added to the 
number, the majority is greatly in favor of the original race, 
and they must exercise immense influence on the character of 
the rising generation. The customs, too, of the old inhabitants 
are very readily adopted by the new-comers, especially when 
they are found to suit the climate and the peculiarities of the 
country they have been formed in; and the habits of a small mass 
•of settlers living in contact with them fade away more and more 
with each successive generation. So it has been in Egypt; and, 
as usual, the conquered people bear the stamp of the ancient in¬ 
habitants rather than that of the Arab conquerors. 

Of the various institutions of the ancient Egyptians, none are 
more interesting than those which relate to their social life; and 
when we consider the condition of other countries in the early 



CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 


2 55 


ages when they flourished, from the ioth to the 20th century 
before our era, we may look with respect on the advancement 
they had then made in civilization, and acknowledge the benefits 
they conferred upon mankind during their career. For like other 
people, they have had their part in the great scheme of the world’s 
development, and their share of usefulness in the destined pro¬ 
gress of the human race; for countries, like individuals, have cer¬ 
tain qualities given them, which, differing from those of their pre¬ 
decessors and contemporaries are intended in due season to per¬ 
form their requisite duties. The interest felt in the Egyptians is 
from their having led the way, or having been the first people we 
know of who made any great progress, in the arts and manners 
of civilization; which, for the period when they lived, was very 
creditable, and far beyond that of other kingdoms of the world. 
Nor can we fail to remark the difference between them and their 
Asiatic rivals, the Assyrians, who, even at a much later period, 
had the great defects of Asiatic cruelty—flaying alive, impaling, 
and torturing their prisoners, as the Persians, Turks, and other 
Orientals have done to the present century, the reproach of 
which can not be extended to the ancient Egyptians. Being the 
dominant race of that age, they necessarily had an influence on 
others with whom they came in contact; and it is by these means 
that civilization is advanced through its various stages; each peo¬ 
ple striving to improve on the lessons derived from a neighbor 
whose institutions they appreciate, or consider beneficial to them¬ 
selves. It was thus that the active mind of the talented Greeks 
sought and improved on the lessons derived from other countries, 
especially from Egypt; and though the latter, at the late period 
of the 7th century B. C., had lost its greatness and the prestige 
of superiority among the nations of the world, it was still the 
seat of learning and the resort of studious philosophers; and the 
abuses consequent on the fall of an empire had not yet brought 
about the demoralization of after times. 



256 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


The early part of Egyptian monumental history is coeval with 
the arrivals of Abraham and of Joseph, and the Exodus ol the 
Israelites; and we know from the Bible what was the state ol the 
world at that time. But then, and apparently long before, the 
habits of social life in Egypt were already what we find them to 
have been during the most glorious period of their career; and 
as the people had already laid aside their arms, and military men 
only carried them when on service, some notion may be had of 
the very remote date of Egyptian civilization. In the treatment 
of women they seem to have been very far advanced beyond 
other wealthy communities of the same era, having usages very 
similar to those of the modern world; and such was the respect 
shown to women that precedence was given to them over men, 
and the wives and daughters of kings succeeded to the throne 
like the male branches of the royal family. Nor was this privi¬ 
lege rescinded, even though it had more than once entailed upon 
them the trouble of a contested succession; foreign kings often 
having claimed a right to the throne through marriage with an 
Egyptian princess. It was not a mere influence that they pos¬ 
sessed, which women often acquire in the most arbitrary Eastern 
communities; nor a political importance accorded to a particular 
individual, like that of the Sultana Valideh, the Queen Mother, 
at Constantinople; it was a right acknowledged by law, both in 
private and public life. They knew that unless women were 
treated with respect, and made to exercise an influence over 
society, the standard of public opinion would soon be lowered, 
and the manners and morals of men would suffer; and in acknowl¬ 
edging this, they pointed out to women the very responsible 
duties they had to perform to the community. 

From their private life great insight is obtained into their 
character and customs; and their household arrangements, the 
style of their dwellings, their amusements and their occupations, 
explain their habits; as their institutions, mode of government, 


CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 


2 57 


arts and military knowledge illustrate their history, and their 
relative positions among the nations of antiquity. In their form 
and arrangement, the.houses were made to suit the climate, 
modified according to their advancement in civilization; and we 
are often enabled to trace in their abodes some of the primitive 
habits of a people, long after they have been settled in towns, 
and have adopted the manners of wealthy communities; as the 
tent may still be traced in the houses of the Turks, and the small 
original wooden chamber in the mansions and temples of ancient 
Greece. 

As in all warm climates, the poorer classes of Egyptians lived 
much in the open air; and the houses of the rich were constructed 

t 

to be cool throughout the summer; currents of refreshing air 
being made to circulate freely through them by the judicious 
arrangement of the passages and courts. Corridors, supported 
on columns, gave access to the different apartments through a 
succession of shady avenues and areas, with one side open to the 
air, as in cloisters; and even small detached houses had an open 
court in the centre, planted as a garden with palms and other 
trees. Mulhufs , or wooden wind-sails, were also fixed over the 
terraces of the upper story, facing the prevalent and cool N. W. 
wind, which was conducted down their sloping boards into the 
interior of the house. They were exactly similar to those in the 
modern houses of Cairo; and some few were double, facing in 
opposite directions. 

The houses were built of crude brick, stuccoed and painted, 
with all the combinations of bright color in which the Egyptians 
delighted; and a highly decorated mansion had numerous courts, 
and architectural details derived from the temples. Over the 
door was sometimes a sentence, as “ the good house; 11 or the name 
of a king, under whom the owner probably held some office; many 
other symbols of good omen were also put up, as at the entrances 
of modern Egyptian houses; and a visit to some temple gave as 


258 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


good a claim to a record as the pilgrimage to Mecca, at the 
present day. Poor people were satisfied with very simple tene¬ 
ments; their wants being easily supplied, both as to lodging and 
food; and their house consisted of four walls, with a flat roof of 
palm-branches laid across a split date-tree as a beam, and cov¬ 
ered with mats plastered over with a thick coating ol mud. It 
had one door and a few small windows closed by wooden shut¬ 
ters. As it scarcely ever rained, the mud root was not washed 
into the sitting room; and this cottage rather answered as a shel¬ 
ter from the sun, and as a closet for their goods, than for the or¬ 
dinary purpose of a house in other countries. Indeed at night 
the owners slept on the roof, during the greater part of the year; 
and as most of their work was done out of doors, they might 
easily be persuaded that a house was far less necessary for them 
than a tomb. To convince the rich of this ultra-philosophical 
sentiment was not so easy; at least the practice differed from the 
theory; and though it was promulgated among all the Egyptians, 
it did not prevent the priests and other grandees from living in 
very luxurious abodes, or enjoying the good things of this world; 
and a display of wealth was found to be useful in maintaining 
their power, and in securing the obedience of a credulous people. 
The worldly possessions of the priests were therefore very exten¬ 
sive, and if they imposed on themselves occasional habits of abste¬ 
miousness, avoided certain kinds of unwholesome food, and per¬ 
formed many mysterious observances, they were amply repaid by 
the improvement of their health, and by the influence they 
thereby acquired. Superior intelligence enabled them to put 
their own construction on regulations emanating from their sacred 
body, with the convenient persuasion that what suited them did 
not suit others; and the profane vulgar were expected to do, not 
as the priests did, but as they taught them to do. 

In their plans the houses of towns, like the villas in the 
country, varied according to the caprice of the builders. The 


CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 


2 59 


ground-plan, in some of the former, consisted of a number of 
chambers on three sides of a court, which was often planted with 
trees. Others consisted of two rows of rooms on either side of 
a long passage, with an entrance-court from the street; and others 
were laid out in chambers round a central area, similar to the 
Roman Impluvium , and paved with stone, or containing a few 
trees, a tank or a fountain in its centre. Sometimes, though 
rarely, a flight of steps led to the front door from the street. 

Houses of small size were often connected together and formed 
the continuous sides of streets; and a court-yard was common to 
several dwellings. Others of a humbler kind consisted merely 
of rooms opening on a narrow passage, or directly on the street. 
These had only a basement story, or ground-floor; and few houses 
exceeded two stories above it. They mostly consisted of one 
upper floor; and though Diodorus speaks of the lofty houses in 
Thebes four and five stories high, the paintings show that few had 
three, and the largest seldom four, including, as he does, the base¬ 
ment-story. Even the greater portion of the house was confined 
to a first floor, with an additional story in one part, on which was 
a terrace covered by an awning, or a light roof supported on col¬ 
umns. This served for the ladies of the family to sit at work in 
during the day, and here the master of the house often slept at 
nio-ht during; the summer, or took his siesta in the afternoon. 
Some had a tower which rose even above the terrace. 

The first-floor was what the Italians call the “ piano nobilep 
the ground rooms being chiefly used for stores, or as offices, of 
which one was set apart for the porter, and another for visitors 
coming; on business. Sometimes besides the parlor were receiv- 
ing apartments on the basement-story, but guests were generally 
entertained on the first-floor; and on this were the sleeping-rooms 
also, except where the house was of two or three stories. The 
houses of wealthy citizens often covered a considerable space, and 
either stood directly upon the street, or a short way back, within 


260 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


an open court; and some large mansions were detached, and had 
several entrances on two or three sides. Before the door was a 
porch supported on two columns, decked with banners or ribbons, 
and larger porticoes had a double row of columns, with statues 
between them. 

In the distribution of the apartments numerous and different 
modes were adopted, according to circumstances; in general, 
however, the large mansions seem to have consisted of a court 
and several corridors, with rooms leading from them, not unlike 
many of those now built in Oriental and tropical countries. The 
houses in most of the Egyptian towns are quite destroyed, leav¬ 
ing few traces of their plans, or even of their sites; but sufficient 
remains of some at Thebes, at Tel el Amarna, and other places, 
to enable us, with the help of the sculptures, to ascertain their 
form and appearance. 

Granaries were also laid out in a very regular manner, and 
varied of course in plan as much as the houses, to which there is 
reason to believe they were frequently attached, even in the 
towns; and they were sometimes only separated from the house 
by an avenue of trees. 

Some small houses consisted merely of a court, and three or 
four store-rooms on the ground-floor, with a single chamber 
above, to which a flight of steps led from the court; but they 
were probably only met with in the country, and resembled some 
still found in the fellah villages of modern Egypt. Very similar 
to these was the model of a house now in the British Museum, 
which solely consisted of a court-yard and three small store-rooms 
on the ground-floor, with a staircase leading to a room belonging 
to the storekeeper, which was furnished with a narrow window 
or aperture opposite the door, rather intended for the purposes of 
ventilation than to admit the light. In the court a woman was 
represented making bread, as is sometimes done at the present 
day in Egypt, in the open air; and the store-rooms were full of 


gram. 


CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 


26 l 


Other small houses in towns consisted of two or three stories 
above the ground-floor. They had no court, and stood close to¬ 
gether, covering a small space, and high in proportion to their 
base, like many of those at Karnak. The lower part had merely 
the door of entrance and some store-rooms, over which were a 
first and second floor, each with three windows on the front and 
side, and above these an attic without windows, and a staircase 
leading to a terrace on the flat roof. The floors were laid on 
rafters, the end of which projected slightly from the walls like 
dentils; and the courses of brick were in waving or concave lines, 
as in the walls of an enclosure at Dayr el Medeeneh in Thebes. 
The windows of the first-floor had a sort of mullion dividing 
them into two lights each, with a transom above; and the upper 
windows were filled with trellis-work, or cross bars of wood, as 
in many Turkish harems. A model of a house of this kind is 
also in the British Museum. But the generality of Egyptian 
houses were far less regular in their plan and elevation; and the 
usual disregard for symmetry is generally observable in the houses 
even of towns. 

The doors, both of the entrances and of the inner apartments, 
were frequently stained to imitate foreign and rare woods. They 
were either of one or two valves, turning on pins of metal, and 
were secured within by a bar or bolts. Some of these bronze 
pins have been discovered in the tombs of Thebes. They were 
fastened to the wood with nails of the same metal, whose round 
heads served also as an ornament, and the upper one had a pro¬ 
jection at the back, in order to prevent the door striking against 
the wall. We also find in the stone lintels and floor, behind the 
thresholds of the tombs and temples, the holes in which they 
turned, as well as those of the bolts and bars, and the recess for 
receiving the opened valves. The folding doors had bolts in the 
centre, sometimes above as well as below; a bar was placed 
across from one wall to the other; and in many instances wooden 


262 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


locks secured them by passing over the centre, at the junction of 
the two folds., For greater security they were occasionally sealed 
with a mass of clay, as is proved by some tombs found closed at 
Thebes, by the sculptures, and in the account given by Herodo¬ 
tus of Rhampsinitus’ treasury. 

Keys were made of bronze or iron, and consisted of a long 
straight shank, about live inches in length, witji three or more 
projecting teeth; others had a nearer resemblance to the wards 
of modern keys, with a short shank about an inch long; and some 
resembled a common ring with the wards at its back. These are 
probably of Roman date. The earliest mention of a key is in 
Judges (iii. 23-25), when Ehud having gone “ through the porch, 
and shut the doors of the parlor upon him and locked them,” 
Eglon’s “ servants took a key and opened them.” 

The doorways, like those in the temples, were often sur¬ 
mounted by the Egyptian cornice; others were variously deco¬ 
rated, and some, represented in the tombs, were surrounded with 

1 

a variety of ornaments, as usual richly painted. These last, 
though sometimes found at Thebes, were more general about 
Memphis and the Delta; and two good instances of them are pre¬ 
served at the British Museum, brought from a tomb near the 
Pyramids. 

Even at the early period when the Pyramids were built, the 
doors were of one or two valves; and both those of the rooms and 
the entrance doors opened inwards, contrary to the custom of the 
Greeks, who were consequently obliged to strike on the inside of the 
street door before they opened it, in order to warn persons pass¬ 
ing by; and the Romans were forbidden to make it open outward 
without a special permission. 

The floors were of stone, or a composition made of lime or 
other materials; but in humbler abodes they were formed of 
split date-tree beams, arranged close together or at intervals, 
with planks or transverse layers of palm branches over them, 


CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 


covered with mats and a coating of mud. Many roofs were 
vaulted, and built like the rest of the house of crude brick; and 
not only have arches been found of that material dating in the 
16th century before our era, but vaulted granaries appear to be 
represented of much earlier date. Bricks, indeed, led to the in¬ 
vention ol the arch; the want of timber in Egypt having pointed 
out the necessity of some substitute for it. 

Wood was imported in great quantities; deal and cedar 
were brought from Syria; and rare woods were part of the 
tribute imposed on foreign nations conquered by the Pharaohs. 
And so highly were these appreciated for ornamental purposes, 
that painted imitations were made for poorer persons who could 
not afford them; and the panels, windows, doors, boxes, and 
various kinds of woodwork, were frequently of cheap deal or syca¬ 
more, stained to resemble the rarest foreign woods. And the 
remnants of them found at Thebes show that these imitations 
were clever substitutes for the reality. Even coffins were some¬ 
times made of foreign wood; and many are found of cedar of 
Lebanon. The value of foreign woods also suggested to the 
Egyptians the process of veneering; and this was one of the arts 
of their skillful cabinet-makers. 

The ceilings were of stucco, richly painted with various de¬ 
vices, tasteful both in their form and the arrangement of the 
colors; among the oldest of which is the Guilloche, often mis¬ 
called the Tuscan or Greek border. 

Both in the interior and exterior of their houses the walls 
were sometimes portioned out into large panels of one uniform 
color, flush with the surface, or recessed, not very unlike those at 
Pompeii; and they were red, yellow, or stained to resemble stone 
or jvood. It seems to have been the introduction of this mode of 
ornament into Roman houses that excited the indignation of Vi¬ 
truvius; who says that in old times they used red paint sparingly, 
like physic, though now whole walls are covered over with it. 



264 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


Figures were also introduced on the blank walls in the sit¬ 
ting-rooms, or scenes from domestic life, surrounded by orna¬ 
mental borders, -and surmounted by deep cornices of flowers and 
various devices richly painted; and no people appear to have been 
more fond of using flowers on every occasion. In their domestic 
architecture they formed the chief ornament of the mouldings; 
and every visitor received a bouquet of real flowers, as a token 
of welcome on entering a house. It was the pipe and coffee of 
the modern Egyptians; and a guest at a party was not only 
presented with a-lotus, or some other flower, but had a chaplet 
placed round his head, and another round his neck; which led 
the Roman poet to remark the 4L many chaplets bn the foreheads ” 
of the Egyptians at their banquets. Everywhere flowers abounded; 
they were formed into wreaths and festoons, they decked the 
stands that supported the vases in the convivial chamber, and 
crowned the wine-bowl as well as the servants who bore the cup 
from it to the assembled guests.. 

The villas of the Egyptians were of great extent, and con¬ 
tained spacious gardens, watered by canals communicating with 
the Nile. They had large tanks of water in different parts of 
the garden, which served for ornament, as well as for irrigation, 
when the Nile was low; and on these the master of the house 
occasionally amused himself and his friends by an excursion in a 
pleasure-boat towed by his servants. They also enjoyed the diver¬ 
sion of angling and spearing fish in the ponds within their 
grounds, and on these occasions they were generally accompanied 
by a friend, or one or more members of their family. Particular 
care was always bestowed upon the garden, and their great fond¬ 
ness for flowers is shown by the number they always cultivated, 
as well as by the women of the family or the attendants present¬ 
ing bouquets to the master of the house and his friends when they * 
walked there. 

The house itself was sometimes ornamented with propylse 


PLANS OF VILLAS. 


265 


and obelisks, like the temples themselves; it is even possible that 
part of the building may have been consecrated to religious pur¬ 
poses, as the chapels of other countries, since we find a priest 
engaged in presenting offerings at the door of the inner chambers; 
and, indeed, were it not for the presence of the women, the form 
of the garden, and the style of the porch, we should feel disposed 
to consider it a temple rather than a place of abode. The en¬ 
trances of large villas were generally through folding gates, 
standing between lofty towers, as at the courts of temples, with a 
small door at each side; and others had merely folding-gates, 
with the jambs surmounted by a cornice. One general wall of 
circuit extended round the premises, but the courts of the house, 
the garden, the offices, and all the other parts of the villa had each 
their separate enclosure. The walls were usually built of crude 
brick, and, in damp places, or when within reach of the inunda¬ 
tion, the lower part was strengthened by a basement of stone. 
They were sometimes ornamented with panels and grooved lines, 
generally stuccoed, and the summit was crowned either with 
Egyptian battlements, the usual cornice, a row of spikes in 
imitation of spear-heads, or with some fancy ornament. 

The plans of the villas varied according to circumstances, 
but their general arrangement is sufficiently explained by the 
paintings. They were surrounded by a high wall, about the 
middle of which was the main or front entrance, with one central 
and two side gates, leading to an open walk shaded by rows of 
trees. Here were spacious tanks of water, facing the doors of 
the right and left wings of the house, between which an avenue 
led from the main entrance to what may be called the centre 
of the mansion. After passing the outer door of the right wing, 
you entered an open court with trees, extending quite round a 
nucleus of inner apartments, and having a back entrance commu¬ 
nicating with the garden. On the right and left of this court 
were six or more store-rooms, a small receiving or waiting room 


266 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


at two of the corners, and at the other end the staircases which 
led to the upper stories. Both of the inner facades were furnished 
with a corridor, supported on columns, with similar towers and 
gateways. The interior of this wing consisted of twelve rooms, 
two outer and one center court, communicating by folding gates; 
and on either side of this last was the main entrance to the rooms 
on the ground-floor, and to the staircases leading to the upper 
story. At the back were three long rooms, and a gateway open¬ 
ing on the garden, which, besides flowers, contained a variety of 
trees, a summer-house, and a large tank of water. 

The arrangement of the left wing was different. The front 
gate led to an open court, extending the whole breadth of the 
facade of the building, and backed by the wall of the inner part. 
Central and lateral doors thence communicated with another 
court, surrounded on three sides by a set of rooms, and behind it 
was a corridor, upon which several other chambers opened. 

This wing had no back entrance, and standing isolated, the 
outer court extended entirely around it; and a succession of door- 
wavs communicated from the court with different sections of the 
centre of the house, where the rooms, disposed like those already 
described, around passages and corridors, served partly as sitting 
apartments, and partly as store-rooms. 

The stables for the horses and the coach-houses for the trav¬ 
eling chariots and carts, were in the centre, or inner part of the 
building; but the farm-yard where the cattle were kept stood at 
some distance from the house, and corresponded to the depart¬ 
ment known by the Romans under the name of rustica . Though 
enclosed separately, it was within the general wall of circuit, 
which surrounded the land attached to the villa; and a canal, 
bringing water from the river, skirted it, and extended along the 
back of the grounds. It consisted of two parts; the sheds for 
housing the cattle, which stood at the upper end, and the yard, 
where rows of rings were fixed, in order to tie them while feed- 


IRRIGATION. 267 

ing in the day-time; and men always attended, and frequently 
fed them with the hand. 

The granaries were also apart from the house, and were 
enclosed within a separate wall; and some of the rooms in which 
they housed the grain appear to have had vaulted roofs. These 
were filled through an aperture near the top, to which the men 
ascended by steps, and the grain when wanted was taken out 
from a door at the base. 

The superintendence ot the house and grounds was intrusted 
to stewards, who regulated the tillage of the land, received what¬ 
ever was derived from the sale of the produce, overlooked the 
returns of the quantity of cattle or stock upon the estate, settled 
all the accounts, and condemned the delinquent peasants to the 
bastinado, or any punishment they might deserve. To one were 
intrusted the affairs of the house, answering to “ the ruler,” “ over¬ 
seer,” or “steward of Joseph’s house;” others “ superintended the 
granaries,” the vineyard, or the culture of the fields; and the ex¬ 
tent of their duties, or the number of those employed, depended 
on the quantity of land, or the will of its owner. 

The mode of laying out their gardens was as varied as that 
of the houses; but in all cases they appear to have taken par¬ 
ticular care to command a plentiful supply of water, by means of 
reservoirs and canals. Indeed, in no country is artificial irriga¬ 
tion more required than in the valley of the Nile; and, from the 
circumstance of the water of the inundation not being admitted 
into the gardens, they depend throughout the year on the supply 
obtained from wells and tanks, or a neighboring canal. 

The mode of irrigation adopted by the ancient Egyptians 
was exceedingly simple, being merely the shadoof\ or pole and 
bucket of the present day; and, in many instances, men were em¬ 
ployed to carry the water in pails, suspended by a wooden yoke 
they bore upon their shoulders. The same yoke was employed 
for carrying other things, as boxes, baskets containing game and 


268 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


poultry, or whatever was taken to market; and every trade seems 
to have used it for this purpose, from the potter and the brick- 
maker, to the carpenter and the shipwright. 

Part of the garden was laid out in walks shaded with trees, 
usually planted in rows, and surrounded, at the base of the stem, 
with a circular ridge of earth, which, being lower at the centre 
than at the circumference, retained the water, and directed it 
more immediately towards the roots. It is difficult to say if trees 
were trimmed into any particular shape, or if their formal appear¬ 
ance in the sculpture is merely owing to a conventional mode of 
representing them; but, since the pomegranate, and some other 
fruit trees, are drawn with spreading and irregular branches, it 
is possible that sycamores, and others, which presented large 
masses of foliage, were really trained in that formal manner, 
though, from the hieroglyphic signifying “tree” having the same 
shape, we may conclude it was only a general character for all 
trees. 

Some, as the pomegranates, date-trees, and dom- palms, are 
easily recognized in the sculptures, but the rest are doubtful, as 
are the flowering plants, with the exception of the lotus and a 
few others. » 

To the garden department belonged the care of the bees, 
which were kept in hives very like our own. In Egypt they re¬ 
quired great attention; and so few are its plants at the present 
day, that the owners of hives often take the bees in boats to 
various spots upon the Nile, in quest of flowers. They are a 
smaller kind than our own; and though found wild in the coun¬ 
try, they are far less numerous than wasps, hornets, and ichneu¬ 
mons. The wild bees live mostly under stones, or in clefts of the 
rock, as in many other countries; and the expression of Moses, 
as ot the Psalmist, u honey out of the rock,” shows that in 
Palestine their habits were the same. Honey was thought of 
great importance in Egypt, both for household purposes, and for 


GARDENS. 


269 


an offering to the gods; that of Benha (thence surnamed El 
assal ), or Athribis, in the Delta, retained its reputation to a late 
time; and a jar of honey from that place was one of the four 
presents sent by John Mekaukes, the governor of Egypt, to Mo¬ 
hammed. 

Large gardens were usually divided into different parts; the 
principal sections being appropriated to the date and sycamore 
trees, and to the vineyard. The former may be called the or¬ 
chard. The flower arid kitchen gardens also occupied a consider¬ 
able space, laid out in beds; and dwarf trees, herbs, and flowers, 
were grown in red earthen pots, exactly like our own, arranged 
in long rows by the walks and borders. 

Besides the orchard and gardens, some of the large villas 
had a park or paradise, with its fish-ponds and preserves for game, 
as well as poultry-yards for keeping hens and geese, stalls for fat¬ 
tening cattle, wild goats, gazelles, and other animals originally 
from the desert, whose meat was reckoned among the dainties of 
the table. 

It was in these extensive preserves that the rich amused 
themselves with the chase; and they also enclosed a considerable 
space in the desert itself with net-fences, into which the animals 
were driven, and shot with arrows, or hunted with dogs. 

Gardens are frequently represented in the tombs of Thebes 
and other parts of Egypt, many of which are remarkable for their 
extent. The one here introduced is shown to have been sur¬ 
rounded by an embattled wall, with a canal of water passing in 
front of it, connected with the river. Between the canal and the 
wall, and parallel to them both, was a shady avenue of various 
trees; and about the centre was the entrance, through a lofty 
door, whose lintel and jambs were decorated with hieroglyphic 
inscriptions, containing the name of the owner of the grounds, 
who in this instance was the king himself. In the gateway were 
rooms for the porter, and other persons employed about the gar- 


270 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


den, and, probably, the receiving room for visitors, whose abrupt 
admission might be unwelcome; and at the back a gate opened 
into the vineyard. The vines were trained on a trellis-work, sup¬ 
ported by transverse rafters resting on pillars; and a wall, extend¬ 
ing round it, separated this part from the rest of the garden. At 
the upper end were suits of rooms on three different stories, look- 
ing upon green trees, and affording a pleasant retreat in the heat 
of summer. On the outside of the vineyard wall were placed 
rows of palms, which occurred again with the dom and other 
trees, along the whole length of the exterior wall; four tanks of 
water, bordered by a grass plot, where geese were kept, and the 
delicate flower of the lotus was encouraged to grow, served for 
the irrigation of the grounds; and small kiosks or summer-houses, 
shaded with trees, stood near the water, and overlooked beds of 
flowers. The spaces containing the tanks, and the adjoining por¬ 
tions of the garden, were each enclosed by their respective walls, 
and a small subdivision on either side, between the large and 
small tanks, seems to have been reserved for the growth of par¬ 
ticular trees, which either required peculiar care, or bore a fruit 
of superior quality. 








J^QYPTiy\N 'V^ZALTH. 

That the riches of the country were immense is proved by 
the appearance of the furniture and domestic utensils, and by the 
great quantity of jewels of gold and silver, precious stones, and 
other objects of luxury in use among them in the earliest times; 
their treasures became proverbial throughout the neighboring 
states, and a love of pomp and splendor continued to be the 
ruling passion of the Egyptians till the latest period of their 
existence as an independent state. 

The wealth of Egypt was principally derived from taxes, 
foreign tribute, monopolies, commerce, mines, and above all from 
the productions of a fruitful soil. The wants of the poorer 
classes were easily satisfied; the abundance of grain, herbs and 
esculent plants, afforded an ample supply to the inhabitants of the 
valley of the Nile, at a trifling expense, and with little labor; 
and so much corn was produced in this fertile country, that after 
sufficing for the consumption of a very extensive population, 
it offered a great surplus for the foreign market; and afforded 
considerable profit to the government, being exported to other 
countries, or sold to the traders who visited Egypt for commer¬ 
cial purposes. 

The gold mines of the Bisharee desert were in those times 
very productive; and, though we have no positive notice of their 
first discovery, there is reason to believe they were worked at 
the earliest periods of the Egyptian monarchy. The total of the 


271 














272 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


annual produce of the gold and silver mines (which Diodorus, on 
the authority of Hecatseus, says, was recorded in the tomb of 
Osymandyas at Thebes, apparently a king of the 19th dynasty) is 
stated to have been 3,200 myriads, or 32 millions of mince —a 
weight of that country, called by the Egyptians mn or mna , 
60 of which were equal to one talent. The whole sum amounted 
to 665 millions of our money; but it was evidently exaggerated. 

The position of the silver mines is unknown; but the gold 
mines of Allaga, and other quartz “diggings,” have been discov¬ 
ered, as well as those of copper, lead, iron and emeralds, all of 
which are in the desert near the Red Sea; and the sulphur, which 
abounds in the same districts, was not neglected by the ancient 
Egyptians. 

The abundance of gold and silver in Egypt and other ancient 
countries, and the sums reported to have been spent, accord well 
with the reputed productiveness of the mines in those days; and, 
as the subject has become one of peculiar interest, it may be well 
to inquire respecting the quantity and the use of the precious 
metals in ancient times. They were then mostly confined to the 
treasures of princes, and of some rich individuals; the proportion 
employed for commercial purposes was small, copper sufficing 
for most purchases in the home market; and nearly all the gold 
and silver money (as yet uncoined) was in the hands of the wealthy 
few. The manufacture of jewelry, and other ornamental objects 
took up a small portion of the great mass; but it required the 
wealth and privilege of royalty to indulge in a grand display 
of gold and silver vases, or similar objects of size and value. 

The mines of those days, from which was derived the wealth 
of Egypt, Lydia, Persia, and other countries, afforded a large 
supply of the precious metals; and if most of them are now 
exhausted or barely retain evidences of the treasures the)' once 
gave forth, there can be no doubt of their former productiveness; 
and it is reasonable to suppose that gold and silver abounded in 



GOLD AND SILVER. 


2 7 3 


early times in those parts of the world which were first inhabited, 
as they did in countries more recently peopled. They may never 
have afforded at any period the immense riches of a California 
or an Australia, yet there is evidence of their having been suffi¬ 
ciently distributed over various parts of the old world. 

For though Herodotus (iii., 106) says that the extremities 
of the earth possess the greatest treasures; these extremities may 
approach or become the centre, i. e., of civilization, when they 
arrive at that eminence which all great countries in their turn 
seem to have a chance of reaching; and Britain, the country of 
the greatly coveted tin, once looked upon as separated from the 
rest of mankind, is now one of the commercial centres of the 
world. The day, too, has- come when Australia and California 
are rivals for a similar distinction; and England, the rendez¬ 
vous of America in her contests with Europe, has yielded its 
turn to younger competitors. 

The greatest quantity of gold and silver in early times was 
derived from the East; and Asia and Egypt possessed abundance 
of those metals. The trade of Colchis, and the treasures of the 
Arimaspes and Massagetse, coming from the Ural (or from the 
Altai) mountains, supplied much gold at a very early period, 
and Indian commerce sent a large supply to western Asia. 
Spain, the Isle of Thasos, and other places, were resorted to 
by the Phoenicians, particularly for silver; and Spain, for its 
mines, became the “ El Dorado” of those adventurous traders. 

The mines of the Eastern desert, the tributes from Ethiopia 
and Central Africa, as well as from Asia, enriched Egypt with 
gold and silver; but it was long before Greece (where in heroic 
times the precious metals were scarcely known) obtained a mod¬ 
erate supply of silver from her own mines; and gold only became 
abundant there after the Persian war. 

Thrace and Macedonia produced gold, as well as other coun¬ 
tries, but confined it to their own use, as Ireland employed the 
18 ' 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


2 74 

produce of its mines; and as early Italy did, when its various 
small states were still free from the Roman yoke; and though the 
localities from which silver was obtained in more ancient times 
are less known, it is certain that it was used at a very remote 
period; and (as before stated) it was commonly employed in 
Abraham’s time for mercantile transactions. 

Gold is mentioned on the Egyptian monuments of the 4th 
dynasty, and silver was probably of the same early time; but gold 
was evidently known in Egypt before silver, which is consistent 
with reason, gold being more easily obtained than silver, and fre¬ 
quently near the surface or in streams. 

The relative value and quantity of the precious metals in the 
earliest times, in Egypt and Western Asia, are not known; and 
even if a greater amount of gold were found mentioned in a 
tribute, this could be no proof of the silver being more rare, as 
it might merely be intended to show the richness of the gifts. In 
the tribute brought to Thothmes III. by the Southern Ethiopians 
and three Asiatic people, the former present scarcely any silver, 
but great quantities of gold in rings, ingots, and dust. The Asi¬ 
atic people of Pount bring two baskets of gold rings, and one of 
gold dust in bags, a much smaller amount of gold than the Ethi¬ 
opians, and no silver; those of Kufa, or Kaf, more silver than 
gold, and a considerable quantity of both made into vases of 
handsome and varied shapes; and the Rot-n-n (apparently living 
on the Euphrates) present rather more gold than silver, a large 
basket of gold and a smaller one of silver rings, two small silver 
and several large gold vases, which are of the most elegant shape, 
as well as colored glass or porcelain cups, and much incense and 
bitumen. The great Asiatic tribute to the same king at Karnak, 
speaks in one place of 100 ingots (or pounds weight?) of gold 
and silver, and afterwards of 401 of silver; but the imperfect 
preservation of that record prevents our ascertaining how much 
gold was brought, or the relative proportions of the two metals. 


WORTH OF GOLD. 


2 75 


M. Leon Faucher, indeed, suggested that the value of silver 
in some countries originally equaled, if it did not exceed, that of 
gold . . . and the laws of Menes state that gold was worth two 
and a half times more than silver. . » . Everywhere, except in 
India, between the fifth and sixth century B. C., the relative value 
of gold and silver was 6 or 8 to i, as it was in China and Japan 
at the end of the last century. In Greece it was, according to 
Herodotus, as 13 to 1; afterwards, in Plato’s and Xenophon’s 
time, and more than 100 years after the death of Alexander, as 
10 to 1, owing to the quantity of gold brought in through the 
Persian war; when the value of both fell so much, that in the 
time of Demosthenes it was five times less than at the death of 
Solon. 

Though it may not be possible to arrive at any satisfactory 
conclusion respecting the quantity of gold and silver taken from 
the mines, employed in objects of art and luxury, or in circula¬ 
tion as money in Egypt and other countries, we shall introduce 
a few facts derived from the accounts of ancient authors, relating 
to the amount of wealth amassed, and the purposes to which 
those precious metals were applied. We shall also show some 
of the fluctuations that have taken place in the supply of them at 
various periods; and shall endeavor to establish a comparison be¬ 
tween the quantity said to have been in use in ancient and modern 
times. 

When we read of the enormous wealth amassed by the 
Egyptian and Asiatic kings, or the plunder by Alexander and 
the Romans, we wonder how so much could have been obtained; 
for, even allowing for considerable exaggeration in the accounts 
of early times, there is no reason to disbelieve the private for¬ 
tunes of individuals at Rome, and the sums squandered by them, 
or even the amount of some of the tributes levied in the East. 
Of ancient cities, Babylon is particularly cited by Herodotus and 
others for its immense wealth. Diodorus (ii. 9) mentions a golden 


27 6 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


statue of Jupiter at Babylon 40 feet high, weighing 1,000 Baby¬ 
lonian talents; another of Rhea, of equal weight, having two 
lions on its knees, and near it silver serpents of 300 talents each; 
a standing statue of Juno weighing 800 talents, holding a snake, 
and a sceptre set with gems; as well as a golden table of 500 
talents weight, on which were two cups weighing 300 talents, and 
two censers each of 300 talents weight, with three golden bowls, 
one of which, belonging to Jupiter, weighed 1,200 talents, the 
others each 600; making a total of at least 6,900 talents, reck¬ 
oned equal to $55,000,000. And the golden image of Nebu¬ 
chadnezzar, 60 cubits, or 90 feet high, at the same ratio would 
weigh 2,250 talents, or $17,934,820. 

David, who had not the Indian and Arabian trade afterwards 
obtained by Solomon, left for the building of the temple 100,000 
talents of gold and 1,000,000 of silver; and the sum given by him 
of his “own proper good, 11 “over and above all prepared for the 
holy house, 11 was u 3,000 talents of gold 11 and u 7,000 of refined 
silver; 11 besides the chief men’s contributions of 500 talents and 
10,000 drachms of gold, 10,000 talents of silver, and an abund¬ 
ance of brass, iron, and precious stones. 

The annual tribute of Solomon was 666 talents of gold, be¬ 
sides that brought by the merchants, and the present from the 
Queen of Sheba of 120 talents; and the quantity of gold and 
silver used in the temple and his house was extraordinary. Mr. 
Jacob, in his valuable work on the precious metals,* has noticed 
many of these immense sums, collected in old times. Among 
them are the tribute of Darius, amounting to 9,880 talents of sil¬ 
ver and 4,680 of gold, making a total of 14,560, estimated at 
about $37,250,000; the sums taken by Xerxes to Greece; the 
wealth of Croesus; the riches of Pytheus, king of a small territory 
in Phrygia, possessing gold and silver mines, who entertained the 
army of Xerxes, and gave him 2,000 talents of silver and 4,093,- 
000 staters of gold (equal to 23,850,000 dollars of our money); 


TREASURES. 


2 77 

the treasures acquired by Alexander, in Susa and Persia, exclu¬ 
sive ol that found in the Persian camp and in Babylon, said to 
have amounted to 40,000 or 50,000 talents; the treasure of Perse- 
polis rated at 120,000 talents; that of Pasagarda at 6,000; and 
the 180,000 talents collected at the capture of Ecbatana; besides 
6,000 which Darius had with him, and were taken by his mur¬ 
derers. “ Ptolemy Philadelphus is stated by Appian to have pos¬ 
sessed treasure to the enormous amount of 740,000 talents;” 
either “ 890 million dollars, or at least a quarter of that sum;” 
and fortunes ot private individuals at Rome show the enormous 
wealth they possessed. “ Crassus had in lands $8,072,915, be¬ 
sides as much more in money, furniture, and slaves; Seneca, 
$12,109,375; Pallas, the freedman of Claudius, an equal sum; 
Lentulus, the augur, $16,145,805; Csec. Cl. Isidorus, though he 
had lost a great part of his fortune, in the civil war, left by his 
will 4,116 slaves, 3,600 yoke of oxen, 257,000 other cattle, and 
in ready money $2,421,875. Augustus received by the testa¬ 
ments of his friends $161,458,330. Tiberius left at his death 
$108,984,375, which Caligula lavished away in less than one 
year; and Vespasian, at his succession, said that to support the 
state he required quadrigmties millies , or $1,614,083,330. The 
debts of Milo amounted to $2,825,520. J. Caesar, before he held 
any office, owed 1,300 talents, $1,279,375; and when he set out 
for Spain after his praetorship, he is reported to have said, that 
‘Bis millies et quingenties sibi deesse, ut nihil haberet, 1 or ‘that 
he was $10,091,145 worse than nothing. 1 When he first entered 
Rome, in the beginning of the civil war, he took out of the treas¬ 
ury $5,479,895, and brought into it at the end of it $24,218,750; 
he purchased the friendship of Curio, at the commencement of 
the civil war, by a bribe of $2,421,856, and that of the consul, 
L. Paulus, by 1,500 talents, about $1,397,500; Apicius wasted 
on luxurious living $2,421,875; Caligula laid out on a supper 
$403,625; and the ordinary expense of Lucullus for a supper in 


278 


DOMESTIC LIFE. * 


the Hall of Apollo was 50,000 drachms, or $8,070. The house 
of Marius, bought of Cornelia for $12,105, was so ^ to Lucullus 
for $80,760; the burning of his villa was a loss to M. Scaurus of 
$4,036,455; and Nero’s golden house must have cost an im¬ 
mense sum° since Otho laid out in furnishing a part of it $2,017,- 
225.” But though Rome was greatly enriched by conquest, she 
never obtained possession of the chief wealth of Asia; and the 
largest quantity of the precious metals was always excluded from 
the calculations of ancient writers. 

The whole revenue of the Roman Empire under Augustus is 
“ supposed to have been equal to 200 millions of our money;” 
and at the time of his death (A.D. 14) the gold and silver in cir¬ 
culation throughout the empire is supposed to have amounted to 
$1,790,000,000; which at a reduction of 1 grain in 360 every 
year for wear, would have been reduced by the year A.D 482 to 
$435,165,495; and when the mines of Hungary and Germany 
began to be worked, during the seventh and ninth centuries, the 
entire amount of coined money was not more than about 42 at 
the former, and 165 or 170 million dollars at the latter, period; so 
that if no other supply had been obtained, the quantity then cir¬ 
culating would long since have been exhausted. 

“ The loss by wear on silver ” is shown by Mr. Jacob u to be 
four times that of gold;” that on our money is estimated at more 
than one part in a hundred annually; and u the smaller the pieces, 
the greater loss do they suffer by abrasion.” “ The maximum 
of durability of gold coins seems to be fixed at 22 parts, in 24, 
of pure gold with the appropriate alloys. When the fineness 
ascends or descends from that point, the consumption by abrasion 
is increased.” 

It is from its ductility that gold wears so much less than sil¬ 
ver; and many ancient gold coins (as those of Alexander and 
others), though evidently worn by use, nearly retain their true 
weight, from the surface being partly transferred into the adjacent 
hollows, and not entirely rubbed off as in silver. 


TOTAL VALUE OF GOLD. 


2 79 

The quantity of the precious metals, formerly used for the 
purposes of luxury, greatly diminished after the decline of the 
Roman empire, and in the middle ages they were sparingly em¬ 
ployed except for coinage; ornamental work in gold and silver, 
mostly executed by first-rate artists, being confined to men of 
rank, till the opening ot new mines added to the supply; which 
was afterwards increased by the abundant treasures of America; 
and the quantity applied to ornamental purposes then began to 
vie with that of olden times. 

M. Leon Faucher even calculates the annual abstraction of 
the precious metals from circulation by use for luxury, disasters 
at sea, and export, at 25 million dollars, in Europe and the United 
States 

The silver from the American mines exported to Europe in 
100 years, to 1630, gave an addition to the currency of 5 million 
dollars annually, besides that used for other purposes, or re-ex¬ 
ported; and from 1630 to 1830 from 7 ]/ 2 to 10 millions annually; 
an increase in the quantity used for currency having taken place, 
as well as in that exported to India, and employed for purposes 
of luxury. 

Humboldt states the whole quantity of gold from # the Ameri¬ 
can mines, up to 1803, to be 162 millions of pounds in weight, 
and of silver 7,178 millions, or 44 of silver to 1 of gold. 

Again, the total value of gold produced during three cen¬ 
turies to 1848, including that from Russia, has been estimated at 
$2,825,000,000; and the total annual quantity of gold, before the 
discovery of the Californian fields, has been reckoned at about 
$50,000,000. That from California and Australia already amounts 
yearly to $170,000,000 (or 3 2-5 times as much as previously 
obtained), and is still increasing; but though far beyond the sup¬ 
ply afforded by the discovery of America, the demand made upon 
it by the modern industry of man, together with the effect of 
rapid communication, and of the extension of trade, as well as by 


280 


DOMESTIC LIFE. 


the great deficiency of gold in the world, will prevent its action 
being felt in the same way as when the American supply was first 
obtained; and still less will be the effect now, than it would have 
been in ancient times, if so large and sudden a discovery had then 
been made. For, as Chevalier says, “ Vast as is the whole amount 
of gold in the world, it sinks into significance when contrasted 
with the aggregate product of other branches of human industry. 
If they increase as fast as the gold, little or no alteration will take 
place in its value; which depends on the relation between it and 
the annual production of other wealth.” 

According to another calculation, all the gold now in the 
world is supposed to be equal to about $3,410,000,000; but 
the whole amount of either of the two precious metals in old times 
is not easily ascertained, nor can any definite comparison be es¬ 
tablished between their former and present value. And still less 
in Egypt, than in Greece and Rome, no standard of calculation 
being obtainable from the prices of commodities there, or from 
any other means of determining the value of gold and silver. 

♦ ‘ 








The immense number and variety of statues, lamps, urns, 
articles ot domestic use, in metal or earthenware, etc., dis¬ 
covered at Herculaneum and Pompeii, have rendered the 
Museum at Naples an inexhaustible treasury of information 
relative to the private life of the ancients. To give an adequate 
description of the richness and Variety of its contents would far 
exceed the whole extent of this work, much more the small 
space which it can have; but that space can not be better occu¬ 
pied than in describing some few articles which possess an 
interest from the ingenuity of their construction, the beauty of 
their workmanship, or their power to illustrate ancient usages 
or ancient authors. 

Writing implements are among the most important of the 
latter class, on account of the constant mention of them, as 
well as of the influence which the comparative ease or difficulty 
of producing copies of writing is always found to exert over 
society. On this head there is no want of information. The 
implements used are frequently mentioned, especially in familiar 
writings, as the letters of Cicero, and their forms have been 
tolerably ascertained from various fragments of ancient paintings. 

It is hardly necessary to state that for manuscripts of any 
length, and such as were meant to be preserved, parchment or 
vellum, and a vegetable tissue manufactured from the rush -pcify- 

281 










282 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


rus, were in use. The stalk of this plant consists of a number of 
thin concentric coats, which, being carefully detached, were pasted 
crossways one over the other, like the warp and woof in woven 
manufactures, so that the fibres ran longitudinally in each direc¬ 
tion, and opposed in each an equal resistance to violence. The 
surface was then polished with a shell, or some hard smooth sub¬ 
stance. The ink used was a simple black liquid, containing no 
mordant to give it durability, so that the writing was easily 
effaced by the application of a sponge. The length of the Greek 
papyri is said to vary from eight to twelve inches; the Latin 
often reach sixteen; the writing is in columns, placed at right 
angles to the length of the roll. 

To each of them is appended a sort of ticket, which served 
as a title. Hence the end of the roll, or volume, was called 
frons , a term of frequent recurrence in Ovid and Martial, 
and not always rightly understood. Hence, also, when we meet 
with the expression, gemma frons , we must understand that the 
volume had a ticket at each end. These books were also 
composed of two tables or pages, and served for memoran¬ 
da, letters, and other writings, not intended to be pre¬ 
served. They were composed of leaves of wood or metal coated 
over with wax, upon which the ancients wrote with a stylus , or 
iron pen, or point rather, for it was a solid sharp-pointed instru¬ 
ment, some 6 to 8 inches in length, like a lady’s stiletto upon a 
large scale. In the middle of each leaf there appears to have 
been a button, called umbilicus , intended to prevent the pages 
touching when closed, and obliterating the letters traced on the 
yielding wax. 

The tablets here represented would be called twofold, as 
consisting only of two leaves; in the following cut may be seen 
another sort, consisting of several leaves, united at the back with 
hinges or rings. In Latin they were called tabulae , or tabellce , 
and the epithets, duplices, triplices, quintuplices, served to mark 
the number of the leaves. 


I 


WRITING MATERIALS. 


283 



Beside them stands a double inkstand, intended probably to 
contain both black and red ink. The former was made either of 
lampblack or some other sort of charcoal, or from the cuttlefish, 
and was called atramentum. As it contained no mordant, and 
was readily obliterated by moisture, it could be used for writing 
upon ivory tablets; and it has been conjectured that some sorts 
of paper were covered with a wash, or varnish, to facilitate the 
discharge of the old writing, and render the paper serviceable a 
second time. Red ink was prepared from cinnabar. The reed, 
cut to a point, which lies beside the inkstand, is the instrument 
used in writing with 
ink before the applica- 
ion of quills. It was 
called calamus . The 
open papyrus explains 
how manuscripts were tabula, calamus, and papyrus. 

read, rolled up at each end, so as to show only the column of 
writing upon which the student was intent. At the other side is 
a purse, or bag, to hold the reed, penknife, and other writing in¬ 
struments. 

The next cut represents, besides a set of tablets bound up, a 
single one hanging from a nail. Such, probably, were those sus¬ 
pended at Epidaurus, 
containing remedies 
by which the sick had 
been cured, by the 
perusal of which Hip- 
tabul M , stylus, AND papyrus. pocrates is said to have 

profited in the compilation of his medical works. It also con¬ 
tains, besides a papyrus similar to those described, a hexagonal 
inkstand, with a ring to pass the finger through, upon which 
there lies an instrument resembling a reed, but the absence oi the 
knots, or joints, marks it to be a stylus. Another ol these in¬ 
struments leans against the open book. 











































284 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


These were made of every sort of material; sometimes with 
the precious metals, but usually of iron, and on occasion might 
be turned into formidable weapons. It was with his stylus that 
Caesar stabbed Casca in the arm, when attacked in the senate by 
his murderers; and Caligula employed some person to put to 
death a senator with the same instruments 

In the reign of Claudius women and boys were searched to 
ascertain whether there were styluses in their pen-cases. Stabbing 

with the pen, there¬ 
fore, is not merely a 
metaphorical expres¬ 
sion. Tablets such as 
those here represent¬ 
ed, were the day¬ 
books, or account-books. When they were full, or when the 
writing on them was no longer useful, the wax was smoothed, 
and they were ready again for other service. 



TABULAE AND INK STAND. 


The cut above, besides an inkstand, represents an open book. 
The thinness and yellowish color of the leaves, which are tied 
together with ribbon, denotes that it was made of parchment or 
vellum. 


Below is a cylindrical box, called scrinium and capsa, or 
capsula , in which the manuscripts were placed vertically, the 
titles at the top. Catul¬ 
lus excuses himself to 
Manlius for not having 
sent him the required 
verses, because he had 
with him only one box 
of his books. It is evi- libraries and money. 

dent that a great number of volumes might be comprised in 
this way within a small space; and this may tend to explain the 
smallness of the ancient libiaries—at least of the rooms which 




























LITERATURE. 


285 

are considered to have been such. Beside the box are two 
tablets, which, from the money-bag and coins scattered about, 
had probably been used in reckoning accounts. 

No perfect papyri, but only fragments, have been found at 
Pompeii. At Herculaneum, up to the year 1825, 1,756 had been 
obtained, besides many others destroyed by the workmen, who 
imagined them to be mere sticks of charcoal. Most of them were 
found in a suburban villa, in a room of small dimensions, ranged 
in presses round the sides of the room, in the centre of which 
stood a sort of rectangular book-case. 

Sir Humphry Davy, after investigating their chemical nature, 
arrived at the conclusion that they had not been carbonized by 
heat, but changed by the long action of air and moisture; and he 
visited Naples in hopes of rendering the resources of chemistry 
available towards deciphering these long-lost literary treasures. 
His expectations, however, were not fully crowned with success, 
although the partial efficacy of his methods was established; and 
he relinquished the pursuit at the end of six months, partly from 
disappointment, partly from a belief that vexatious obstacles were 
thrown in his way by the jealousy of the persons to whom the 
task of unrolling had been intrusted. About five hundred vol¬ 
umes have been well and neatly unrolled. It is rather remarkable 
that, as far as we are acquainted, no manuscript of any known 
standard work has been found, nor, indeed, any production of any 
of the great luminaries of the ancient world. 

The most celebrated person, of whom any work has been 
found, is Epicurus, whose treatise, De Natura , has been success¬ 
fully unrolled. This and a few other treatises have been published. 
The library in which this was found appears to have been rich in 
treatises on the Epicurean philosophy. The only Latin work 
which it contained was a poem, attributed to Rabirius, on the 
war of Caesar and Antony. 

A curious literary monument has been found in the shape 


286 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


of a calendar. It is cut on a square block ol marble, upon each 
side of which three months are registered in perpendicular col¬ 
umns, each headed by the proper sign of the zodiac. The infor¬ 
mation given may be classed under three heads, astronomical, 
agricultural, and religious. The first begins with the name ol 
the month; then follows the number of days; then the nones, 
which in eight months of the year fall on the filth day, and were 
thence called quintanse—in the others on the seventh, and were, 
therefore, called septimange. The ides are not mentioned, because 
seven days always elapsed between them and the nones. The 
number of hours in the day and night is also given, the integral 
part being given by the usual numerals, the fractional by an S for 
semissis, the half, and by small horizontal lines for the quarters. 
Lastly, the sign of the zodiac in which the sun is to be found is 
named, and the days of the equinoxes and of the summer solstice 
are determined; for the winter solstice we read, Hiemis initium , 
the beginning of winter. Next the calendar proceeds to the agri¬ 
cultural portion, in which the farmer is reminded of the principal 
operations which are to be done within the month. It concludes 
with the religious part, in which, besides indicating the god under 
whose guardianship the month is placed, it notes the religious 
festivals which fall within it, and warns the cultivator against 
neglecting the worship of those deities upon whose favor and 
protection the success of his labors is supposed mainly to depend. 

No articles of ancient manufacture are more common than 
lamps. They are found in every variety of form and size, in 
clay and in metal, from the cheapest to the most costly descrip¬ 
tion. A large and handsome gold lamp found at Pompeii in 1863 
may be seen in the Pompeian room at the museum in Naples. 
We have the testimony of the celebrated antiquary, Winkleman, 
to the interest of this subject. “ I place among the most curious 
utensils found at Herculaneum, the lamps, in which the ancients 
sought to display elegance and even magnificence. Lamps of 



CURIOUS LAMPS. 


287 


every sort will be found in the museum at Portici, both in clay 
and bronze, but especially the latter; and as the ornaments of the 
ancients have generally some reference to some particular things, 
we often meet with rather remarkable subjects. A considerable 
number of these articles will be found in the British Museum, 
but they are chiefly of the commoner sort. All the works, 

however, descriptive of Herculaneum 
and Pompeii, present us with specimens 
of the richer and more remarkable class 
which attract admiration both by the 
beauty of the 'workmanship and the 
whimsical variety of their designs. We 
may enumerate a few which occur in a 
work now before us, ‘Antiquites d’Her- 
culanum,’ in which we find a Silenus, 

with the usual 
peculiarities of 
figure ascribed 
to the jolly god 
rather exag¬ 
gerated, and an 

owl sitting on 
gold lamp. ( Found at Pompeii.) }q s head be¬ 

tween two huge horns, which support stands for lamps. Another 
represents a flower-stalk growing out ol a circular piinth, 
with snail-shells hanging from it by small chains, which held 
the oil and wick; the trunk of a tree, with lamps suspended 
from the branches; another, a naked boy, beautifully wrought, 
with a lamp hanging from one hand, and an instrument lor 
trimming it from the other, the lamp itself representing a 
theatrical mask. Beside him is a twisted column surmounted 
by the head of a Faun or Bacchanal, which has a lid in 
its crown, and seems intended as a reservoir of oil. The boy 












288 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


and pillar are both placed on a square plateau raised upon lions’ 
claws. But beautiful as these lamps are, the light which they 
gave must have been weak and unsteady, and little superior to 
that of the old-fashioned common lamps, with which they are 
identical in principle. The wick was merely a few twisted 
threads drawn through a hole in the upper surface of the oil ves¬ 
sel, and there was no glass to steady the light and prevent its 
varying with every breeze that blew. 

“Still, though the Romans had not advanced so far in art as 
to apply glass chimneys and hollow circular wicks to their lamps, 
they had experienced the inconvenience of going home at night 
through a city poorly paved, watched and lighted, and accord¬ 
ingly soon invented lanterns to meet the want. These, we learn 
from Martial, who has several epigrams upon this subject, were 
made of horn or bladder: no mention, we believe, occurs of glass 
being thus employed. The rich were preceded by a slave bear¬ 
ing their lantern. This Cicero mentions as being the habit of 
Catiline upon his midnight expeditions; and when M. Antony 
was accused of a disgraceful intrigue, his lantern-bearer was tor¬ 
tured to extort a confession whither he had conducted his mas¬ 
ter. One of these machines, of considerable ingenuity and 
beauty of workmanship, was found in Herculaneum, and another 
almost exactly the same, at Pompeii a few years after. In form 
it is cylindrical, with a hemispherical top, and it is made of sheet- 
copper, except the two main pieces, which are cast. The bottom 
consists of a flat, circular copper plate, supported by three balls, 
and turned up all around the rim, from which rise the rectangular 
supports, which support the upper part of the frame. The top 
and bottom were further connected by the interior uprights, be¬ 
tween which the laminae of horn or glass were placed, and secured 
at the top and bottom by the doublings of the copper. Horn 
was the most common substance used to transmit the light, but 
bladder and other membranes were also employed. In the centre 


THE CANDELABRUM. 


289 


of the lantern is seen the small lamp. The cover is hemispherical, 
and lifts up and down: it is pierced with holes for the admission 
of air, and has besides the characters NBVRTI-CATIS pricked 
upon it. These have been interpreted, Tiburti Cati Sum, or Ti- 
burti Cati S. (ervus), indicating, the one that it belonged to Catus, 
or that it was to be carried by his slave.” 

One of the most elegant articles of furniture in ancient use 
was the candelabrum, by which we mean those tall and slender 
stands which ser¬ 
ved to support a 
lamp, but were 
independent of, 
and unconnected with, 
it. These, in their 
original and simple 
form, were mere reeds 
or straight sticks, fixed 
upon a foot by peas¬ 
ants to raise their light 
to a convenient height; 
at least such a theory 
of their origin is agree¬ 
able to what 

told of the rustic man- candelabra, or lamp stands. 

ners of the early Romans, and it is in some degree countenanced 
by the fashion in which many of the ancient candelabra are 
made. Sometimes the stem is represented as throwing out buds; 
sometimes it is a stick, the side branches of which have been 
roughly lopped, leaving projections where they grew; some¬ 
times it is in the likeness of a reed or cane, the stalk being 
divided into joints. Most of those which have been found in 
the buried cities are of bronze, some few of iron. In their 
general plan and appearance there is a great resemblance, though 

l 9 





























290 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


the details of the ornaments admit of infinite variety. All stand 
on three feet, usually griffins’ or lions’ claws, which support a 
light shaft, plain or fluted according to the fancy of the maker. 
The whole supports either a plinth large enough for a lamp to 
stand on, or a socket to receive a wax candle, which the Romans 
used sometimes instead of oil in lighting their rooms. Some of 
them have a sliding shaft, like that of a music stand, by which 
the light might be raised or lowered at pleasure. 

One of those elegant table lamps, by the praise of which 
the present discussion was introduced, is represented in the ac¬ 
companying plate. In¬ 
cluding the stand it is 
three feet high. On a 
rectangular plinth rises 
a rectangular pillar* 
crowned by a capri¬ 
cious capital. On the 
front of the pillar is a 
mask of a Bacchante, 
with fine features and 
long flowing hair; and 
on the opposite side, 
the head of a bull, with 
the Greek word Bu- 
cranion. From the 
candelabra, or lamp stands. extreme points of the 

abacus, four ornamental branches, beautifully chased, project; the 
lamps which now hang from them, though ancient, also, are not 
those which belong to the stand, and were not found with it. 
They are nearly alike in figure, but differ in size. Three of them, 
are ornamented with various animals, the fourth is plain. One 
of them has each of its ends wrought into the form of a shell. 
Above are two eagles in high relief, with the thunderbolt of Jup^ 






























CANDELABRA. 


29I 


iter in their talons. Another has two bulls’ heads, a third two 
elephants’ heads projecting from the sides. The latter is sus¬ 
pended by two dolphins, instead of the chains generally in use, 
whose tails are united, and attached to a small ball and ring. The 
pillar is not placed in the center, but at one end of the plinth, 
which is the case in almost every lamp of this description yet 
found. The space thus obtained may have served as a stand for 
the oil vase used in trimming the lamps. The plinth is beautifully 
damasked, or inlaid, in imitation of a vine, the leaves of which are 
ot silver, the stem and fruit of bright brass. On one side is an 
altar with wood and fire upon it; on the other a Bacchus, naked, 
with his thick hair plaited and bound with ivy. He rides a tiger, 
and has his left hand in the attitude of holding reins, which time 
probably has destroyed; with the right he raises a drinking-horn. 
The workmanship of this lamp is exquisitely delicate in all its 
parts. 

Before we quit this subject we have still one candelabrum to 
notice, which for simplicity of design and delicacy of execution 
is hardly to be surpassed by any in the Neapolitan collection. 
The stem is formed, of a liliaceous plant, divided into two 
branches, each of which supports a flat disc, which may represent 
the flower, upon which a lamp was placed. At the base is a 
mass of bronze which gives stability to the whole, upon which a 
Silenus is seated, earnestly engaged in trying to pour wine from a 
skin which he holds in his left hand into a cup in his right. In 
this figure all the distinctive marks of the companion and tutor 
of Bacchus are expressed with great skill; the pointed ears, the 
goat’s tail, the shaggy skin, the flat nose, and the ample rotundity 
of body, leave no doubt on our minds as to the person intended 
to be represented. The head, especially, is admirable, both in re¬ 
spect of workmanship and expression. 

Amonofst Greek domestic utensils we also count articles made 

« 

of basket-work, which frequently occur in antique pictures. The 


292 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


kalathos, the basket for keeping wool (used lor weaving and em¬ 
broidering), and also flowers and fruit, is frequently met with in 
vase paintings illustrating the life ol Greek women. As eaily as 
Homer’s time baskets, probably round or oval, were used at 
meals, to keep bread and pastry in. They had a low rim and 
handles. The kaneon was also used at offerings, where it is filled 
with pomegranates, holly boughs and ribbons. At the Panathenaia 
noble Athenian maidens carried such baskets, filled with holy 
cakes, incense, and knives on their heads. These graceful figures 
were a favorite subject of antique sculpture. Both Polyklete and 
Skopas had done a celebrated kanephore—the former in bronze, 
the latter in marble. There was also a flat basket, chiefly 
used for carrying fish, similar to that used at the present day 
by fishermen in the south. Other baskets used by peasants ap¬ 
pear frequently in antique pictures, in the original carried by a 
peasant on a stick over his shoulder, together with another basket 
of the same pear-like shape, taken from a bas-relief represent¬ 
ing a vintage, in which the former appears filled with grapes, 
while the latter is being filled with must by a boy. This proves, 
at the same time, the knowledge amongst - the Greeks of the art 
of making the basket-work dense enough to hold fluids. The 
same fact is shown by a passage in Homer, in which Polyphemos 
lets the milk coagulate to cheese in baskets, which cheese was 
afterwards placed on a hurdle through which the whey trickled 
slowly. Of plaited rushes, or twigs, consisted also a peculiar 
kind of net, a specimen of whith is seen on the reverse of a medal 
coined under the Emperor Macrinus, as the emblem of the mar- 
atime city of Byzantium. 

To light and heat the room, in Homer’s time, fire-baskets, 
or fire-basins were used, standing on high poles, and fed with dry 
logs of wood or splinters. The cinders were, at intervals, re¬ 
moved by serving-maids,, and the flames replenished. Such fire- 
baskets on poles are still used by night-travelers in Southern 



OIL-LAMPS. 


2 93 




Russia, and at nightly ceremonies in India. The use of pine- 
torches is of equal antiquity. They consisted of long, thin sticks 
of pine-wood, tied together with bark, rushes or papyrus. The 
bark of the vine was also used for torches, called lophis. The 

golden statues on pedestals, in the hall of Alkinoos, 
undoubtedly held such torches in their hands. In 
vase paintings we also see a different form of the 
torch, carried chiefly by Demeter and Perseph¬ 
one, which consists of two pieces of wood fastened 
crosswise to a staff. An imitation of this wooden 
torch was undoubtedly the torch-case made of clay 
or metal in the shape of a salpinx. Its surface 
was either smooth or formed in imitation of the 
bundles of sticks and the bark of the wooden 
torch, the inside being filled with resinous sub¬ 
stances. 

The date of oil-lamps in Greece can 
not be stated with accuracy; they were 
known at the time of Aristophanes. They 
were made of terra-cotta or metal, and their construction re¬ 
sembles those 
used by the 
Romans. They 
are mostly 
closed semi¬ 


globes with two 


ANCIENT LAMPS. 


openings, one, 
in the centre, 
to pour the oil 

in, the other in the nose-shaped prolongation destined to receive 
the wick. Amongst the small numbers of Greek lamps preserved 
to us we have chosen a few of the most graceful specimens, one 
of them showing the ordinary form of the lamp. Some are made 





































2 94 


DOMESTIC UTENSIES. 


of clay, the latter being painted in various colors. The Athe¬ 
nians also used lanterns made of transparent horn, and lit up 
with oil-lamps. They were carried at night in the streets like 
the torches. Sparks, carefully preserved under the ashes, served 
both Greeks and Romans to light the fire. The ancients had, 
however, a lighting apparatus consisting of two pieces of 
wood, of which the one was driven into the other, like a gim¬ 
let, the friction effecting a flame. According to Theophrast, 

the wood of nut or chestnut trees was generally used for the 

« 

purpose. 

The street running from the Temple of Fortune to the 
Forum, called the Street of the Forum, in Pompeii, and forming 
a continuation of that of Mercury, has furnished an unusually 
rich harvest of various utensils. A long list of these is given by 
Sir W. Gell, according to which there were found no less than 
two hundred and fifty small bottles of inferior glass, with nu¬ 
merous other articles of the same material, which it would be 
tedious to particularize. 

A marble statue of a laughing faun, two bronze figures of 
Mercurv, the one three inches and the other four inches high, 
and a statue of a female nine inches high, were also found, to¬ 
gether with many bronze lamps and stands. We may add vases, 
basins with handles, paterae, bells, elastic springs, hinges, buckles 
for harness, a lock, an inkstand, and a strigil; gold ear-rings and 
a silver spoon; an oval cauldron, a saucepan, a mould for pastry, 
and a weight of alabaster used in spinning, with its ivory axis re¬ 
maining. The catalogue finishes with a leaden weight, forty- 
nine lamps of common clay ornamented with masks and animals, 
forty-five lamps for two wicks, three boxes with a slit to keep 
money in, in one of which were found thirteen coins of Titus, 
Vespasian, and Domitian. Among the most curious things dis- 
covered, were seven glazed plates found packed in straw. There 
were also seventeen unvarnished vases of terra-cotta and seven 


THE STEELYARD. 


2 95 


clay dishes, and a large pestle and mortar. The scales and steel¬ 
yard which we have given are said to have been found at the 
same time. On the beam of the steelyard are Roman numerals 
from X. to XXXX.; a V was placed for division between each 
X.; smaller divisions are also marked. The inscription is 

IMP. VESP. AVG. IIX. 

T. IMP. AVG. F. VI. C. 

EXACTA. IN. CAPITO. 

which is translated thus: “ In the eighth consulate of Vespasian 
Emperor Augustus, and in the sixth of Titus, Emperor and son 
of Augustus. Proved in the Capitol.'’ 1 This shows the great 

care taken to enforce a strict uniformity in the 
weights and measures used throughout the em¬ 
pire; the date corresponds with the year 77 of 
our era, only two years previous to the great 
eruption. The steelyard found was also furnished 
with chains and hooks, and with numbers up to 
XXX. Another pair of scales had two cups, 
with a weight on the side opposite to the material 
weighed, to mark more accurately the fractional 
weight; this weight was called by the ancients 
ligula, and examen. 

Gell tells us that the skeleton of a Pompeian was found here, 
u who apparently, for the sake of sixty coins, a small plate and a 
saucepan of silver, had remained in his house till the street was 
already half filled with volcanic matter. 11 He was found as if in 
the act of escaping from his window. Two others were found 
in the same street. 

The shops in the street on the north side of the Temple of 
Augustus most probably supplied those who feasted with dain¬ 
ties; and it has been called the Street of Dried Fruits, from the 
quantity of raisins, figs, plums, and chestnuts, fruit of several sorts 
preserved in vases of glass, hempseed, and lentils. It is now, 












296 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


however, more generally known as the Street of the Augustals. 
Scales, money, moulds for pastry and bread, were discovered in 
the shops; and a bronze statue of Fame, small, and. delicately 
executed, having golden bracelets round the arms. 

In the northern entrance to the building the name CELSVM 


was written on a pilaster; near it was found in a box a gold 
ring with an engraved stone set in it, forty-one silver, and a 
thousand and thirty-six brass coins. 

The next group of vessels, though nearly destitute of orna¬ 
ment, and probably of a very ordinary class, will serve to give 
us some idea of the cooking vessels of the Romans. One of the 
most celebrated vases in the Neapolitan collection was found with 
a bronze simpulum in it; and upon the vase itself there was a 
sacrificial painting, representing a priest in the act of pouring out 
a libation from a vase with the simpulum. 

Pottery in ancient times was usually much more ornamental 
than at present, although it was often the case that their ornaments 
were rather an inconvenience, and would simply encumber the ves¬ 
sels; in our practical age more importance is placed in the con¬ 
venience and utility than in beauty. Even their common ves¬ 
sels are not without a certain degree of elegance, both in form 
and workmanship. 


Great numbers of clay 
vases have been found, of 
which the following is a 
very beautiful specimen. 
The lip and base have 
the favorite ovolo mould¬ 
ing ; the body has two 
rows of fluting separated 

vessels. {From Pompeii) u . . 

by a transverse band, 
charged with leaves, and with a swan in the centre. The neck 
ot the vase is painted, and the same subject is given on each 














DRINKING VESSELS. 


2 97 

side. It represents a chariot, drawn by four animals at full gallop, 
which appear to be intermediate between tigers and panthers. 
A winged genius directs them with his left hand, while with his 
right he goads them with a javelin. 

Another winged figure preceding the quadriga, with a thyrsus 
in his left hand, is in the act of seizing the bridle of one of the ani¬ 
mals. The whole is painted in white on a black ground, except 
some few of the details, which are yellow, and the car and mantle 
of the genius, which are red. The handles represent knotted 
cords, or flexible branches interlaced, which terminate in the 
heads of animals. This vase is much cracked, probably in con¬ 
sequence of the violence of the Are. 

Some drinking vessels of peculiar con¬ 
struction have been found, which merit a 
particular description. These were in the 
shape of a horn, the primitive drinking- 
vessel, and had commonly a hole at the 
point, to be closed with the finger, until the 
drinker, raising it above his mouth, suffered 
the liquor to flow in a stream from the 
orifice. 

This method of drinking, which is still 
practiced in some parts of the Mediter¬ 
ranean, must require great skill in order to 
hit the mark exactly. Sometimes the hole 
at the tip was closed, and one or two handles fitted to the side, 
and then the base formed the mouth; and sometimes the whim¬ 
sical fancy of the potter fashioned it into the head of a pig, a 
stag, or any other animal. One in the Neapolitan Museum 
has the head of an eagle with the ears of a man. 

These vases are usually of clay, but cheap as is the material, 
it is evident by their good workmanship that they were not 
made by the lowest artists. 










298 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


The learned seem to have been generally mistaken on the 
subject of glass-making among the ancients, who appear to have 
been far more skillful than had been imagined. The vast col¬ 
lection of bottles, vases, glasses, and other utensils, discovered 
at Pompeii, is sufficient to show that the ancients were well ac¬ 
quainted with the art of glass-blowing. 

There is no doubt but that the Romans possessed glass in 
sufficient plenty to apply it to purposes of household ornament. 
The raw material appears from Pliny’s account to have under¬ 
gone two fusions; the first converted it into a rough mass called 
ammonitrum, which was melted again and became pure glass. 
We are also told of a dark-colored glass resembling obsidian, 
plentiful enough to be cast into solid statues. 

Pliny mentions having seen images of Augustus cast in this 
substance. It probably was some coarse kind of glass resembling 
the ammonitrum, or such as that in which the scoriae of our iron 
furnaces abound. Glass was worked either bv blowing it with a 

J O 

pipe, as is now practiced, by turning in a lathe, by engraving and 
carving it, or, as we have noticed, by casting it in a mould. 

The ancients had certainly acquired great skill in the manu¬ 
facture, as appears both from the accounts which have been pre¬ 
served by ancient authors, and by the specimens which still exist 
—among which we may notice, as pre-eminently beautiful, that 
torment of antiquaries, the Portland vase, preserved in the Brit¬ 
ish Museum. We have already adverted to another vase of the 
same kind, and of almost equal beauty, found in one of the tombs 
near the Gate of Herculaneum. 

A remarkable story is told by Dion Cassius, of a man who, 
in the time of the Emperor Tiberius, brought a glass cup into 
the imperial presence and dashed it on the ground. To the 
wonder of the spectators, the vessel bent under the blow without 
breaking, and the ingenious artist immediately hammered out the 
bruise, and restored it whole and sound to its original form; 



COLORED GLASS. 


2 99 

in return for which display of his skill, Tiberius, it is said, 
ordered him to be immediately put to death. 

The story is a strange one, yet it is confirmed by Pliny, who 
both mentions the discovery itself, and gives a clue to the motives 
which may have urged the emperor to a cruelty apparently so 
unprovoked. He speaks of an artificer who had invented a 
method of making flexible glass, and adds that Tiberius ban¬ 
ished him, lest this new fashion should injure the workers in 
metal, of whose trade the manufacture of gold, silver, and other 
drinking-cups, and furniture for the table, formed an extensive 
and important branch. 

The Romans were also well acquainted with the art of col¬ 
oring glass, as appears, among other proofs, from the glass 
mosaics, of which mention has been made. Pliny speaks of a 
blood-red sort, called hsematinum, from blood, of white glass, 
blue glass, etc. The most valuable sort, however, was the color¬ 
less crystal glass, for two cups of which, with handles on each 
side, Nero gave 6,000 sesterces, about $240. 

Under this head we may speak of the vases called murrhino ,, 
since one theory respecting them is, that they were made ol 
variegated glass. Their nature, however, is doubtful; not so 
their value. Pliny speaks of 70 talents being given for one hold¬ 
ing three sextarii, about four and a half pints. Titus Petronius on 
his death-bed defrauded the avarice of Nero, who had compelled 
him, by a common piece of tyranny, to appoint the crown his 
heir by breaking a murrhine trulla, or flat bowl, worth 300 tal¬ 
ents. Nero himself, as became a prince, outdid all by giving 100 
talents for a single capis, or drinking-cup, “ a memorable circum¬ 
stance, that an emperor, and father of his country, should have 
drunk at so dear a rate.” Plirly’s description of this substance 
runs thus: 

“It is to be noticed that we have these rich cassidoin vessels 
(called in Latin murrhina) from the East, and that from places 


3 °° 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


otherwise not greatly renowned, but most within the kingdom of 
Parthia; howbeit the principal come from Carmania. The stone 
whereof these vessels are made is thought to be a certain humor, 
thickened as it were in the earth by heat. In no place are these 
stones found larger than small tablements of pillars or the like, 
and seldom were they so thick as to serve for such a drinking- 
cup as I have spoken of already. Resplendent are they in some 
sort, but it may rather be termed a gloss than a radiant and trans¬ 
parent clearness; but that which maketh them so much esteemed 
is the variety of colors, for in these stones a man shall perceive 
certain veins or spots, which, as they be turned about, resemble 
divers colors, inclining partly to purple and partly to white: he 
shall see them also of a third color composed of them both, re¬ 
sembling the flame of fire. Thus they pass from one to another 
as a man holdeth them, insomuch as their purple seemeth near- 
akin to white, and their milky white to bear as much on the pur¬ 
ple. Some esteem those cassidoin or murrhine stones, the richest, 
which present as it were certain reverberations of certain colors 
meeting altogether about their edges and extremities, such as we 
observe in rainbows; others are delighted with certain fatty spots 
appearing in them; and no account is made of them which show 
either pale or transparent in any part of them, for these he reck¬ 
oned great faults and blemishes-; in like manner if there be seen 
in the cassidoin any spots like corns of salts or warts, for then 
are they considered apt to split. Finally, the cassidoin stones 
are commended in some sort also for the smell that they do 
yield.” 

On these words of Pliny a great dispute has arisen. Some 
think that onyx is the material described, a conjecture founded on 
the variety of colors which that stone presents. To this it is ob¬ 
jected, that onyx and murrha, onyx vases and murrhine vases 
are alike mentioned by Latin writers, and never with any hint 
as to their identity; nay, there is a passage in which Heliogabalus 


GLASS. 


3 QI 


is said to have onyx and murrhine vases in constant use. 
Others, as we have said, think that they were variegated glass; 
others that they were the true Chinese porcelain, a conjecture in 
some degree strengthened by a line of Propertius: 

“Murrlieaq. in Partliis pocula cocta focis.” 

At the same time this quotation is not so conclusive as it might 
have been, since Pliny speaks of murrha as “hardened in the 
earth by heat,’ 1 and the poet may only have meant the same 
thing, though the expression in that case would be somewhat 
strained. To us, Pliny’s description appears to clearly point to 
some opaline substance; the precious opal has never in modern 
times been found in masses approaching to the size necessary to 
make vessels such as we have spoken of. The question is not 
likely to be settled, and it is not improbable that the material of 
these murrhine vases is entirely unknown to us, as the quarries of 
• many marbles used by the ancients have hitherto eluded our re¬ 
search, and the marbles themselves are only known by their 
recurrence among ancient buildings. 

We may here notice one or two facts connected with 
glass, which show that the ancients were on the verge of making 
one or two very important discoveries in physical science. They 
were acquainted with the power of transparent spherical bodies 
to produce heat by the transmission of light, though not with 
the manner in which that heat was generated by the concentra¬ 
tion of the solar rays. Pliny mentions the fact that hollow glass 
balls filled with water would, when held opposite to the sun, grow 
hot enough to burn any cloth they touched; but the turn of his 
expression evidently leads to the conclusion that he believed the 
heat to become accumulated in the glass itself, not merely to be 
transmitted through it. Seneca speaks of similar glass balls, 
which magnified minute objects to the view. Nay,- he had nearly 
stumbled on a more remarkable discovery, the composition of 
light, for he mentions the possibility of producing an artificial 


3° 2 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


rainbow by the use of an angular glass rod. At a far earlier pe¬ 
riod Aristophanes speaks of “a transparent substance used to 
light fires with,” usually translated glass. The passage is curi¬ 
ous, as it shows a perfect acquaintance with the use of the burn¬ 
ing glass. 


With the laws of reflection the ancients, as we know from 
the performances ascribed to Archimedes, were well acquainted. 
It is singular that being in possession of such remarkable facts 

connected with 


refraction, they 
should never 
have proceeded 
t o investigate 
the laws by 



glass vessels (of Pompeii). 


which it is gov¬ 
erned. 

The first ob¬ 
ject figured h y 
S in the annexed 
block, is a glass 
funnel, infundi- 
bulu m; gy is 

described as a wine-strainer, but the method of its use is not 
altogether clear. The bottom is slightly concave, and pierced 
with holes. It is supposed to have been used as a sort of tap, 
the larger part being placed within the barrel, and the wine 
drawn off through the neck or spout, which is broken. Fig. 
is a wine-taster, something on the principle of a siphon. It is 
hollow, and the air being exhausted by the mouth at the small 
end, the liquid to be tasted was drawn up into the cavity. 
a and b , wine-jars; c, two small wine-jars in a glass casket; 
ff, 0, f and <7, goblets or drinking-glasses of toned and beautiful 
colored glass; i and m, glass dishes, the first with a saucer. 
















































































































GLASS VESSELS. 


3°3 


Another sort of glass strainer, of which there are several in 
the Neapolitan Museum, is made of bronze, pierced in elegant 
and intricate patterns as seen on page 84. The Romans used 
strainers filled with snow to cool their wines, and such may have 
been the destination ot the one here represented. These were 
called cola vinaria , or nivaria. The poor used a linen cloth 
for the same purpose. 

With respect to the details of dress, the excavations, whether 
at Pompeii or Herculaneum, enable us to clear up no difficulties, 
and to add little to that which is already known on this subject. 
Still a short notice of the principal articles of dress, and ex¬ 
planation of their Latin names, may be expedient for the full un¬ 
derstanding of some parts of our subject. The male costume 
will detain us a very short time. 

The proper Roman dress, for it would be tiresome and un¬ 
profitable to enter upon the variety of garments introduced in 
later times from foreign nations, consisted merely of the toga and 
tunica, the latter being itself an innovation on the simple and 
hardy habit of ancient times. It was a woolen vest, for it was 
late before the use of linen was introduced, reaching to the knees, 
and at first made without sleeves, which were considered effemi¬ 
nate; but, as luxury crept in, not only were sleeves used, but the 
number of tunics was increased to three or four. The toga was 
an ample semi-circular garment, also without sleeves. It is .de¬ 
scribed as having an opening large enough to admit the head and 
the right arm and shoulder, which were left exposed, having a 
sort of lappet, or flap (lacinia), which was brought under the 
right arm and thrown over the left shoulder, forming the sinus , 
or bosom, the deep folds of which served as a sort of pocket. 
This is the common description, which, we confess, conveys no 
very clear notion of the construction or appearance of the dress. 
The left arm was entirely covered, or if exposed, it was by 
gathering up the lower edge of the ample garment. 


3°4 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


The female dress consisted of one or more tunics, with an 
upper garment, called stola , which superseded the toga, origi¬ 
nally worn by women as well as men. The stola is said to have 
been a more ample and ornamented sort ol tunic. The tunic 
worn by women does not seem to have differed trom that worn 
by men, except that it reached to the feet. Above the stola, 
women wore a mantle called palla or pallium. This is said to 
have been thrown across the shoulders, the right end being 
gathered up and thrown over the left shoulder, leaving nothing 
but the right hand visible. 

Some minute speculations relative to one article in female 
dress have been based on a statue from Herculaneum, in which 



a Neapolitan antiquary thinks-that he has discovered the nature 
and construction of that compound garment called the tunico- 
pallium, in which the appearance and uses of the tunic and mantle 
were united. It is the statue of a woman employed in buckling 
her dress over the right shoulder, having already fastened it on 
the left, in such a manner as to leave the arm bare. 

Numerous articles of female ornament have been found, of 
which we have collected a few into one block. They are drawn 
of the same size as the originals. The lower corners of the cut 
represent ear-rings, seen in front and sideways. It is a portion 
of a plain gold spheroid, very thick, with a metal hook at the 
back to pass through the ear. The next is of simpler construc¬ 
tion, having pearl pendants. Both these patterns seem to have 










ARTICLES OF JEWELRY. 


3°S 



The upper right-hand comer of the cut 


been very common, 
represents a breast¬ 
pin, attached to a 
Bacchanalian foure, 
with a patera in one 
hand and a glass in 
the other. He is 
provided with bat’s 
wings, and two belts, 
or bands of grapes, 
pass across his body. 

The bat’s wings sym¬ 
bolize the drowsiness 
consequent upon hard 
drinking. There are 
also represented gold 
rings with serpent’s 
heads, the eyes of 
which are inlaid with 
beautiful stones and 
diamonds; also brace¬ 
lets of this pattern 
were very common. 

A beautiful gold 
necklace was also 
found, of which a cut is represented in the above plate. It was 
very elaborate and exquisite. Ornamental safety-pins were also 
found, as shown in following cuts. Lockets were also found, 
indicating religious subjects of later date. 

Small toilet-boxes, made of wood or ivory, were also nu¬ 
merous; and, like the vases, of many different forms; and some, 
which contained cosmetics of divers kinds, served to deck the 
dressing-table, or a lady’s boudoir. They were carved in 


20 









































3°6 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


various ways, and loaded with ornamental devices in relief; 
sometimes representing the favorite lotus flower, with its buds 
and stalks, a goose, gazelle, fox, or other animal. Many were 
of considerable length, terminating in a hollow shell, not unlike 
a spoon in shape and depth, covered with a lid turning on a pin; 
and to this, which may properly be styled the box, the remain- 



ing part was merely an accessory, intended for ornament, or 
serving as a handle. 

# 

They were generally of sycamore wood, sometimes of 
tamarisk, or of acacia; and occasionally ivory, and inlaid work, 
were substituted for wood. To many, a handle of less dis¬ 
proportionate length was attached, representing the usual lotus 
flower, a figure, a Typhonian monster, an animal, a bird, a fish, 
or a reptile; and the box itself, whether covered with a lid or 
open, was in character with the remaining part. Some shallow 
ones were probably intended to contain small portions of oint- 


















































TOILET-BOXES, ETC. 


3°7 


ment, taken from a large vase at the time it was wanted, or for 
other purposes connected with the toilet, where greater depth 
was not required; and in many instances they rather resembled 
spoons than boxes. 

Many were made in the form of a royal oval, with and with¬ 
out a handle; and the body of a wooden fish was scooped out, 
and closed with a cover imitating the scales, to deceive the eye 
by the appearance of a solid mass. Sometimes a goose was rep¬ 
resented, ready for table, or swimming on the water, and pluming 



itself; the head being the handle of a box formed of its hol¬ 
low body; some consisted of an open part or cup, attached to a 
covered box; others of different shapes offered the usual raiicty 
of fancy devices, and some were without covers, which may come 
under the denomination oi saucers. Othei s boi e the pi ecise loi m 
and character of a box, being deeper and more capacious; and 
these were probably used lor holding tiinkets, 01 occasionally as 
repositories for the small pots of ointment, or scented oils, and 
bottles containing the collyrium, which women applied to their 

eyes. 

Some were divided into separate compartments, covered by 
a common lid, either sliding in a groove, 01 turning on a pin at 

























3°8 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


one end; and many of still larger dimensions sufficed to contain 
a mirror, combs, and, perhaps, even some articles of dress. 

These boxes were frequently of costly materials, veneered 
with rare woods, or made of ebony, inlaid with ivory, painted 
with various devices, or stained to imitate materials ot a valuable 
nature; and the mode of fastening the lid, and the curious substi¬ 
tute for a hinge given to some of them, show the former was en¬ 
tirely removed, and that the box remained open, while used. 

Knobs of ebony, or other hard wood, were very common. 
They were covered with great care, and inlaid with ivory and 
silver. 

Some boxes were made with a pointed summit, divided into 
two parts, one of which alone opened, turning on small pivots at 



the base, and the two ends of the box resembled in form the gable 
ends, as the top, the shelving roof, of a house. The sides were, 
as usual, secured by glue and nails, generally of wood, and dove¬ 
tailed, a method of joining adopted in Egypt at the most remote 
period; but the description of these belongs more properly to 
cabinet work, as those employed for holding the combs, and simi¬ 
lar objects, to the toilet. 

Some vases have been found in boxes, made of wicker-work, 
closed with stoppers of wood, reed, or other materials, supposed 
to belong either to a lady’s toilet or to a medical man; one of 
which, now in the Berlin Museum, has been already noticed. 







pURNITUF{E. 


In the furniture of the houses the Egyptians displayed con¬ 
siderable taste; and there, as elsewhere, they studiously avoided 
too much regularity, justly considering that its monotonous effect 
fatigued the eye. They preferred variety both in the arrange¬ 
ment of the rooms and in the character of their furniture, and 
neither the windows, doors, nor wings of the house, exactly cor¬ 
responded with each other. An Egyptian would, therefore, have 
been more pleased with the form of our Elizabethan, than of the 
box-shaped rooms of later times. 

In their mode of sitting on chairs they resembled the modern 
Europeans rather than Asiatics, neither using, like the latter, soft 
divans , nor sitting cross-legged on carpets. Nor did they recline 
at meals, as the Romans, on a triclinium , though couches and 
ottomans formed part of the furniture of an Egyptian. When 
Joseph entertained his brethren, he ordered them to sit according 
to their ages. Egyptians sometimes sat cross-legged on the 
ground, on mats and carpets, or knelt on one or both knees;these 
were rather the customs for certain occasions, and of the poorer 
classes. To sit on their heels was also customary as a token of 
respect in the presence of a superior, as in modern Egypt; and 
when a priest bore a shrine before the deity he assumed this posi¬ 
tion of humility; a still greater respect being shown by prostra¬ 
tion, or by Reeling and kissing the ground. But the house of a 
wealthy person was always furnished with chairs and couches. 

3°9 













3 IQ 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


Stools and low seats were also used, the seat being only from 8 
to 14 inches high, and of wood, or interlaced with thongs; these, 
however, may be considered equivalent to our rush-bottomed 
chairs, and probably belonged to persons of humbler means. 
They varied in their quality, and some were inlaid with ivory 
and various woods. 

Those most common in the houses of the rich were the single 
and double chair (answering to the Greek thronos and diphros ), 
the latter sometimes kept as a family seat, and occupied by the 
master and mistress of the house, or a married couple. It was 
not, however, always reserved exclusively for them, nor did they 
invariably occupy the same seat; they sometimes sat like their 
guests on separate chairs, and a dipliros was occasionally offered 
to visitors, both men and women. 

Many of the fauteuils were of the most elegant form. They 
were made of ebony and other rare woods, inlaid with ivory, and 
very similar to some now used in Europe. The legs were mostly 
in imitation of those of an animal; and lions 1 heads, or the entire 
body, formed the arms of large fauteuils, as in the throne of 
Solomon (1 Kings, x. 19). -Some, again, had folding legs, like 
our camp-stools; the seat was often slightly concave; and those 
in the royal palace were ornamented with the figures of captives, 
or emblems of dominion over Egypt and other countries. The 
back was light and strong, and consisted of a single set of upright 
and crqss bars, or of a frame receding gradually and terminating 
at its summit in a graceful curve, supported from without by per¬ 
pendicular bars; and over this was thrown a handsome pillow of 
colored cotton, painted leather, or gold and silver tissue, like the 
beds at the feast of Ahasuerus, mentioned in Esther, or like the 
feathered cushions covered with stuffs and embroidered with silk 
and threads of gold in the palace of Scaurus. 

Seats on the principle of our camp-stools seem to have been 
much in vogue. They were furnished with a cushion, or were 


CHAIRS AND STOOLS. 


3 1 1 

covered with the skin of a leopard, or some other animal, which 
was removed when the seat was folded up; and it was not un¬ 
usual to make even head-stools, or wooden pillows on the same 
principle. They were also adorned in various ways, bound with 
metal plates, and inlaid with ivory, or foreign woods; and the 
wood of common chairs was often painted to resemble that of a 
rarer and more valuable kind. 

The seats of chairs were frequently of leather, painted with 
flowers and fancy devices; of interlaced work made of string or 
thongs, carefully and neatly arranged, which, like our .Indian cane 
chairs, were particularly adapted for a hot climate; but over this 
they occasionally placed a leather cushion, painted in the manner 
already mentioned. 

The forms of the chairs varied very much; the larger ones 
generally had light backs, and some few had arms. They were 
mostly about the height of those now used in Europe, the seat 
nearly in a line with the bend of the knee; but some were very 
low, and others offered that variety of position which we seek in 
the kangaroo chairs of our own drawing-room. The ordinary 
fashion of the legs was in imitation of those of some wild animal, 
as the lion or the goat, but more usually the former, the foot 
raised and supported on a short pin; and, what is remarkable, the 
skill of their cabinet-makers, even before the time of Joseph, had 
already done away with the necessity of uniting the legs with 
bars. Stools, however, and more rarely chairs, were occasion¬ 
ally made with these strengthening members, as is still the 
case in our own country; but the drawing-room fauteuil and 
couch were not disfigured by so unseemly and so unskillful a 
support. 

The stools used in the saloon were of the same style and 
elegance as the chairs, frequently differing from them only in the 
absence of a back; and those of more delicate workmanship 
were made of ebony, and inlaid, as already stated, with ivory or 


/ 


3 12 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


rare woods. Some ol an ordinary kind had solid sides, and were 
generally very low; and others, with three legs, belonged to per¬ 
sons of inferior rank. 

The ottomans were simple square sofas, without backs, raised 
from the ground nearly to the same level as the chairs. The 
upper part was of leather, or a cotton stuff, richly colored, like 
the cushions of the fauteuils; the base was of wood painted with 
various devices; and those in the royal palace were ornamented 

• 

with the figures of captives, the conquest of whose country was 
designated by their having this humiliating position. The same 
idea gave them a place on the soles ot sandals, on the footstools 
of a royal throne, and on the walls ot the palace at Medeenet 
Haboo, in Thebes, where their heads support some of the orna¬ 
mental details of the building. 

Footstools also constituted part of the furniture of the sitting- 
room; they were made with solid or open sides, covered at the 
top with leather or interlaced work, and varied in height accord¬ 
ing to circumstances, some being of the usual size now adopted 
by us, others of inconsiderable thickness, and rather resembling a 
small rug. Carpets, indeed, were a very early invention, and 
they are often represented sitting upon them, as well as on mats, 
which are commonly used in their sitting-rooms, as at the present 
day, and remnants of them have been found in the Theban 
tombs. 

Their couches evinced no less taste than the fauteuils. They 
were of wood, with one end raised, and receding in a graceful 
curve; and the feet, as in many of the chairs, already described, 
were fashioned to resemble those of some wild animal. 

Egyptian tables were round, square, or oblong; the former 
were generally used during their repasts, and consisted of a cir¬ 
cular flat summit, supported like the monopodium of the Romans, 
on a single shaft, or leg, in the centre, or by the figure of a man, 
intended to represent a captive. Large tables had usually three 



BED-ROOM FURNITURE. 

6 

or four legs, but some were made with solid sides; and thouo-h 
generally of wood, many were of metal or stone; and they va¬ 
ried in size, according to the purposes for which they were in¬ 
tended. 

Of the furniture of their bed-rooms we know little or noth¬ 
ing; but that they universally employed the wooden pillow above 
alluded to is evident, though Porphyry would lead us to sup¬ 
pose its use was confined to the priests, when, in noticing their 
mode of life, he mentions a half cylinder of well polished wood 
u sufficing to support their head,” as an instance of their simplicity 
and self-denial. For the rich they were made of Oriental ala¬ 
baster, with an elegant grooved or fluted shaft, ornamented with 
hieroglyphics, carved in intaglio, of sycamore, tamarisk, and 
other woods of the country; the poor classes being contented 
with a cheaper sort, of pottery or stone. Porphyry mentions a 
kind of wicker bedstead of palm branches , hence called bais, 
evidently the species of framework called kajfass , still employed 
by the modern Egyptians as a support to the divans of sitting 
rooms, and to their beds. Wooden, and perhaps also bronze, 
bedsteads (like the iron one of Og, King of Bashan), were used 
by the wealthier classes of the ancient Egyptians; and it is at 
least probable that the couches they slept upon were as elegant 
as those on which their bodies reposed after death; and the more 
so, as these last, in their general style, are very similar to the 
furniture of the sitting-room. 

The oldest specimen of a bedstead is that mentioned by Ho¬ 
mer as joined together by Odysseus in his own house. He had 
cut off the stem of an olive-tree a few feet from the ground, and 
joined to it the boards of the bed, so that the trunk supported 
the bed at the head. It therefore was immovable. The antique 
bed must be considered as the prolongation of the diphros. The 
cross-legged diphros prolonged became the folding bed; that with 
perpendicular legs the couch. The former could easily be moved 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


3 I 4 

and replaced; they are perhaps identical with the beds frequently 
mentioned in the u Odyssey,” which were put into the outer hall 
for o'uests. One of them is shown as the notorious bed of Prok- 
rustes in a picture on a vase. The diphros corresponds to the 
couch resting on four legs, at first without head and foot-board, 
which were afterwards added at both ends. By the further ad¬ 
dition of a back on one of the long sides, it became what we now 
call a chaise longue or sofa. This sleeping kline was no doubt 
essentially the same as that used at meals. The materials were, 
besides the ordinary woods, maple or box, either massive or ve¬ 
neered. The legs and backs, and other parts not covered by the 
bed clothes, were carefully worked. Sometimes the legs are 
neatly carved or turned, sometimes the frames are inlaid with 
gold, silver, and ivory, as is testified in the “Odyssey, 1 ’ and else¬ 
where. 

The bedding mentioned in Homer did not consist of sumpt¬ 
uous bolsters and cushions, as in later times. It consisted, even 
amongst the richer classes, first of all of the blankets of a long¬ 
haired woolen material, or perhaps a kind of mattress. Hides, 
as spread by the poor on the hard floor, were sometimes put un¬ 
der the blankets, and other additional blankets, so as to soften 
the couch. The whole was covered with linen sheets. The 
light blankets served to cover the sleeper, who sometimes used 
his own dress for this purpose; sometimes they consisted of woolen 
blankets woven for the purpose. After Plomer’s time, when 
Asiatic luxury had been introduced into Greece, a mattress was 
placed immediately on the bed-straps. It was stuffed with 
plucked wool or feathers, and covered with some linen or woolen 
material. Pillows, like the mattresses stuffed with wool or 
feathers, were added to complete the bedding, at least in more 
luxurious times. (The cut on page 78 gives a good idea of the 
looks of an ancient Roman and Grecian bed.) Of a similar kind 
were the klinai placed in the sitting-rooms, lying on which, in a 


TABLES, ETC. 


3 1 S 

half-reclining position, people used to read, write and take their 
meals. They were covered with soft blankets of gorgeous colors, 
while one or more cushions served to support the body in its half¬ 
sitting position, or to prop the left arm. 

Tables were used by the ancients chiefly at meals, not for 
reading and writing. The antique tables, either square with four 
legs, or circular or oval with three connected legs, afterwards 
with one leg, resemble our modern ones, but for their being lower. 
Mostly their slabs did not reach higher than the kline; higher 
tables would have been inconvenient for the reclining person. In 
Homeric and even in later times, a small table stood before each 
thronos. The use of separate dishes for each guest is compar¬ 
atively new. Originally the meats were brought in on large 
platters, divided by the steward, and each portion put on the bare 
table. In want of knives and forks the fingers were used. The 
pastry was put in baskets by the tables. Whether the Homeric 
tables were as low as the later ones, when lying instead of sitting 
had become.the custom, we must leave undecided, in want of 
sculptural evidence. The legs of the tables were carefully fin¬ 
ished, particularly those of the tripods, which frequently imitated 
the legs of animals, or at least had claws at their ends. The four¬ 
legged tables were more simple in design. The material was 
wood, particularly maple; later on, bronze, precious metals, and 
ivory were introduced. 

For the keeping of articles of dress, valuable utensils, orna¬ 
ments, bottles of ointment, and documents, larger or smaller 
drawers and boxes were used. Chests of drawers and upright 
cupboards with doors seem to have been unknown in earlier 
times; only in few monuments of later date (for instance in the 
wall-painting of a shoemaker’s workshop at Herculaneum) we 
see something resembling our wardrobe. The wardrobes men¬ 
tioned by Homer doubtless resembled our old-fashioned trunks. 
The surfaces showed ornaments of various kinds, either cut from 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


3 l6 

the wood in relief or inlaid with precious metal and ivory. Some 
smaller boxes with inlaid figures or painted arabesques are shown 
from pictures on vases. The ornamentation with polished nails 
seem to have been very much in favor—a fashion re-introduced 
in modern times. The most celebrated example of such orna¬ 
mentation was the box of Kypselos, in the opisthodomos of the 
temple of Hera at Olympia. It dates probably from the time 
when the counting by Olympiads was introduced, and served, 
according to Botticher, for the keeping of votive tapestry and the 
like. According to Pausanias, it was made of cedar-wood, 
and elliptic in shape. It was adorned with mythological repre¬ 
sentations, partly carved in wood, partly inlaid with gold and 
ivory, encircling the whole box in five stripes, one over the 
other. 

Locks, keys and bolts, known at an early period for the 
closing of doors, were later applied to boxes, as is sufficiently 
proved by the still-existing small keys fastened to finger-rings, 
which, although all of Roman make, were most likely not 
unknown to the Greeks. For doors these would have been too 
small. 

The furniture of Greek houses was simple, but full of artistic 
beauty. This was particularly displayed in vessels for the keep¬ 
ing of both dry and fluid stores, as were found in temples, dwell¬ 
ings and even graves. Only the last-mentioned have been pre¬ 
served to us. Earthen vessels are the most numerous. The in¬ 
vention of the potter’s wheel is of great antiquity, and was 
ascribed by the Greeks in different places to different mythical 
persons. The Corinthians named Hyperbion as its inventor. In 
the Kerameikos, the potters’ quarter of Athens, Keramos, the 
son of Dionysos and Ariadne, was worshiped as such. The name 
of the locality itself was derived from this u heros eponymos.” 
Next to Corinth and Athens (which latter became celebrated for 
earthen manufactures, owing to the excellent clay of the promon- 



PLUNDEIIING C'OIIINTH. 








































































































































































DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


3 l8 

tory of Kolias), FEgina, Lakedsemon, Aulis, Tenedos, Samos and 
Knidos were famous for their earthenware. In these places the 
manufacture of painted earthenware was concentrated; thence they 
were exported to the ports of the Mediterranean and the Black 
Sea for the markets of the adjoining countries. Owing to the 
beautiful custom of the ancients of leaving in the graves of the 
dead the utensils of their daily life, a great many beautiful vessels 
have been preserved which otherwise would have shared the de¬ 
struction of the dwellings with much less fragile implements. 
From the pictures on these vases we derive, moreover, valuable 
information as to the public and private habits of the Greeks. 
The greatest number of graves in their original condition, and 
filled with vessels, are found in Italy. 

Good, particularly red, clay was in demand for superior 
goods, and of this the promontory of Kolias, near Athens, fur¬ 
nished an unlimited supply. The potter’s wheel was in use at a 
very early period. On it were formed both large and small ves¬ 
sels, with the difference, however, that of the former the foot, 
neck, and handles were formed separately, and afterwards at¬ 
tached, as was also the case in small vessels with widely curved 
handles. 

In order to intensify the red color the vessel was frequently 
glazed and afterwards dried and burnt on the oven. The outlines 
of the figures to be painted on the vase were either cut into the 
red clay and filled up with a brilliant black varnish, of the sur¬ 
face itself was covered with the black varnish up to the con¬ 
tours, in which case these stood out in the natural red color of 
the clay. 

The first mentioned process was the older of the two, and 
greater antiquity is, therefore, to be assigned to vessels with black 
figures on a red ground. In both kinds of paintings draperies or 
the muscles of nude figures were further indicated by the incision 
of additional lines of the color of the surface into the figures. 




POTTERY. 


3 X 9 


Other colors, like dark red, violet, or white, which on close in¬ 
vestigation have been recognized as dissolvable, were put on after 
the second burning of the vessel. 

About the historic development of pottery we know nothing 
beyond what may be guessed from the differences of style. As 
we said before, figures of a black or dark-brown color painted 
on the natural pale red or yellowish color of the clay indicate 
greater antiquity. The black figures were occasionally painted 
over in white or violet. These vessels are mostly small and some¬ 
what compressed in form; they are surrounded with parallel 
stripes of pictures of animals, plants, fabulous beings, or ara¬ 
besques. The drawings show an antiquated stiff type, similar to 
those on the vessels recently discovered at Nineveh and Babylon, 
whence the influence of Oriental on Greek art may be inferred. 
This archaic style, like the strictly hieratic style in sculpture, was 
retained together with a freer treatment at a more advanced 
period. As a first step of development we notice the combination 
of animals and arabesques, at first with half-human, half-animal 
figures, soon followed by compositions belonging mostly to a cer¬ 
tain limited circle of myths. The treatment of figures shows 
rigidity in the calm, and violence in the active, positions. The 
Doric forms of letters and words on many vases of this style, 
whether found in Greece or Italy, no less than the uniformity of 
their technique , indicate one place of manufacture, most likely the 
Doric Corinth, celebrated for her potteries; on the other hand, 
the inscriptions in Ionian characters and written in the Ionian dia¬ 
lect on vessels prove their origin in the manufactures of the Ionian 
Euboea and her colonies. The pictures on these vases, also 
painted in stripes, extend the mythological subject-matter beyond 
the Trojan cycle to the oldest epical myths, each story being rep¬ 
resented in its consecutive phases. 

The latter vases form the transition to the second period. 
The shapes now become more varied, graceful, and slender. The 


3 2 ° 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


figures are painted in black, and covered with a brilliant varnish; 
the technique of the painting, however, does not differ from that 
of the first period. The outlines have been neatly incised and 
covered up with black paint; the details also of draperies and 
single parts of the body are done by incision, and sometimes 
painted over in white or dark red. The principle seems to be 
that of polychrome painting, also applied in sculpture. Single 
parts of the armor, embroideries, and patterns of dresses, hair, 
and beards of men, the manes of animals, etc., are indicated by 
means of dark red lines. This variety of color was required par¬ 
ticularly for the draperies, which are stiff and clumsily attached 
to the body. The same stiffness is shown in the treatment of 
faces and other nude parts of the body, as also in the rendering 
of movements. The faces are always in profile, the nose and chin 
pointed and protruding, and the lips of the compressed mouth in¬ 
dicated only by a line. Shoulders, hips, thighs, and calves bulge 
out, the body being singularly pinched. The grouping is equally 
imperfect. The single figures of compositions are loosely con¬ 
nected by the general idea of the story. They have, as it were, 
a narrative character; an attempt at truth to nature is, however, 
undeniable. 

The subjects are taken partly from the twelve-gods cycle 
(like the frequently-occurring birth of Athene, Dionysian proces¬ 
sions, etc.), or from Trojan and Theban myths; partly also from 
daily life, such as'chases, wrestlings, sacrifices, symposia, and the 
like. To this class belong most of those large Panathenaic prize- 
vases, which are of such importance for our knowledge of gym¬ 
nastic competitions. 

In our third class the figures appear in the natural color of 
the surface, which itself has been painted black. The character 
of the figures in consequence appears gay and lively. Both styles 
seem at one time to have existed together, for we find them used 
severally on two sides of one and the same vessel, till at last the 


DRAWINGS ON VASES. 


3 2r 


painting of black figures was disused entirely. The drawings 
now become more individual, and are freed from the fetters of 
conventional tradition—a proof of the free development of both 
political and artistic feelings, even among the lower classes of arti¬ 
ficers. The specimens of the third class show the different stages 
of this process of liberation. At first the figures are somewhat 
hard, and the drapery, although following the lines of the body 
more freely than pre¬ 
viously, shows still tra¬ 
ces of archaic severity 
oftreatment; the details, 
indicated by black lines, 
are still carefully worked 
out. For smaller folds 
and muscles, a darker 
shade of the red color 
is used; wreaths and 
flowers appear dark; 
red white is used only 
in few cases — for in¬ 
stance, for the hair of an 
old man. The composi¬ 
tion shows greater con¬ 
centration and symme¬ 
try in the grouping, 
according to the condi¬ 
tions of the space at 
disposal. The figures 

show a solemn dignity, with signs, however, of an attempted freer 
treatment. 

* 

Kramer justly calls this period that of the “ severe style,” 
and compares it with the well-known “FEginetic ” style in sculp¬ 
ture. The further development of the “ severe style ” is what 



21 


























































3 22 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


Kramer calls the “beautiful style , 11 in which grace and beauty of 
motion and drapery, verging on the soft, have taken the place of 
severe dignity. In high art this transition might be compared to 
that from Perugino’s school to that of Raphael, or, it we may be¬ 
lieve the ancient writers, from the school of Polygnotos to that of 
Zeuxis and Parrhasios. 

The form of the vessels themselves next calls for our atten¬ 
tion. The vases, two-handled amphorai and krateres, found most 
frequently during this period, are slender and graceful. Together 
with them we meet with beautifulty modeled drinking-horns, and 
heads or whole figures, used to put vessels upon. The variety 
of forms, and the largeness of some vessels, overloaded as they 
were with figures, soon led to want of care in the composition. 
The moderation characteristic of the “beautiful style 11 was soon 
relinquished for exaggerated ornamentation, combined with a 
preference for representing sumptuous dresses and the immoderate 
use of white, yellow, and other colors. This led gradually to the 
decadence of pottery. 

In some Etruscan cities earthenware was manufactured by 
local artists working after Greek patterns. The figures are dis¬ 
tinguished from genuine Greek work by the contours being incised 
very deeply and filled up with red color. The clay also is coarser. 
The compositions show an admixture of local myths and usages,, • 
not to mention Etruscan inscriptions. 


















Y A£E£. 

Painted vases may be considered as the most curious, the 
most graceful, and the most instructive remains that have come 
down to us from ancient times. The beauty of the forms, the 
fineness of the material, the perfection of the varnish, the variety 
of the subjects, and their interest in an historical point of view, 
give painted vases a very important place among the productions 
ot the arts of the ancients. Painted vases have been collected 
with great eagerness ever since they have been known, and the 
most remarkable have been engraved by celebrated artists, and 
explained by profound archaeologists. Modern art and archaeol¬ 
ogy have obtained from them beautiful models and important 
information. They were known for the first time in the seven¬ 
teenth century. 

Painted vases were, to a considerable extent, objects ot 
traffic and of export from one country to another. They may 
be generally traced to Athens as the original place of exporta¬ 
tion. Corinth also exported vases, for the products of Corinthian 
potters have been found in Sicily and Italy, and there can be no 
doubt that Corinth had established an active trade in works of 
art with the Greek colonies all over the Mediterranean. Athen¬ 
ian vases were carried by the Phoenicians, the commercial 
traders of the ancient world, as objects of traffic to the remotest 
parts of the then known world. In the Periplus of Scylax, the 

3 2 3 













DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


3 2 4 

Phoenicians are mentioned as exchanging the pottery of Athens 
for the ivory of Africa. They were, in fact, the ornamental 
china of the ancient world. 

Etruscan .—The potter’s art was introduced into Etruria by 
Demaratus of Corinth, who, flying from that city, took up his 

abode at Tarquinii, the 
modern Corneto, where 
vases in the most ar¬ 
chaic style, resembling 
those of Corinth, or 
those called Doric, 
have been found. 
Vases, the Etruscan 
origin of which can not 
be disputed, have been 
found at Volterra, Tar¬ 
quinii (Corneto), Pe¬ 
rugia, Orvieto, Viterbo, 
Aquapendente, and 
other towns of ancient 
Etruria. The clay of which they are made , is of a pale or 
reddish yellow, the varnish is dull, the workmanship rather rude, 
the ornaments are devoid of taste and elegance, and the style of 
the figures possesses all those characteristics already assigned to 
that of the Etruscans. The figures are drawn in black on the 
natural color of the clay; sometimes a little red is introduced on 
the black ground of the drapery. It is by the subject chiefly 
that the Etruscan vases are distinguished from the Greek vases. 
On the former, the figures are in the costume peculiar to ancient 
Italy; the men and the heroes are represented with their beards 
and hair very thick; the gods and genii have large wings; mon¬ 
strous combinations not capable of explanation by Hellenic myths; 
we may also observe divinities, religious customs, attributes, 




































GREEK VASES. 



manners, arms, and symbols, different from those of Greece. 
Etruscan deities, such as Charun with his mace, denote their 
Etruscan origin; the subjects of the vases are, however, generally 
derived from Greek mythology, treated in a manner consonant to 
the Etruscan taste, and to their local religion, while their drawing 
is of the coarsest kind. If an inscription in Etruscan characters, 
traced invariably from right to left, accompanies the painting, 
certainty with regard to their origin may be considered as com¬ 
plete. It is true that the greater number 
of the letters of the ancient Greek alpha¬ 
bet are of the same form as those of the 
Etruscan alphabet; but there are in the 

latter some particular charac- 
'llgj] ters which will prevent any 
JB confusion. The names of the 
personages on the vases are 
spelt differently from those 
on the Greek, as Ainas for 




Ajax, Atreste for Adrastus, Akle for Achilles, Alcsti for Alces- 
tis, etc. We must also observe, that Etruscan painted vases are 
very rare, and are but few in number, compared with those lor 
which we are indebted to the arts of Greece. 

Greek .^-The paste of these vases is tender, easily scratched 
or cut with a knife, remarkably fine and homogeneous, but of loose 
texture. When broken, it exhibits a dull opaque color, more or 
less yellow, red or grey. It is composed of silica, alumina, cai- 
bonate of lime, magnesia and oxide of iron. I he color depends 
on the proportions in which these elements are mixed; the paler 
parts containing more lime, the red more iron. The exteiioi 
coating is composed of a particular kind of clay, which seems to 
be a kind of yellow or red ochre, reduced to a very fine paste, 
mixed with some glutinous or oily substance, and laid on with a 
brush; great difference is observable in the pastes of \ascs com- 





















326 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


ing from widely separated localities, owing either to their compo¬ 
sition or baking. The paste of the early vases of Athens and 
Melos is of a very pale red; that of vases of the Doric or 
Corinthian style is of a pale lemon color. At the best period of 
the art, the paste is of a warm orange red; but Lucanian and 
Apulian vases are of a paler tone. The Etruscan painted vases 
of all ages are of a pale red tone, with a much greater proportion 
of white, which appears to be owing to the greater proportion of 
chalk used in preparing the paste. 

The earliest vases were made with the hand, while those of 
a later period were made with the wheel; the wheel, however, 
is a very early invention. Among the Egyptians and Greeks it 
was a low, circular table, turned with the foot. Representations 
of a potter turning the wheel with his foot, occur on painted 
vases of an early date. With this simple wheel the Greeks 
effected wonders, producing shapes still unrivalled in beauty. 

After the vases had been made on the wheel, Dr. Birch 
writes, they were duly dried in the sun, and then painted; 
for it is evident that they could not have been painted while wet. 
The simplest and probably the most common, process was to 
color the entire vase black. The under part of the foot was left 
plain. When a pattern was added, the outline, faintly traced 
with a round point on the moist clay, was carefully followed by 
the painter. It was necessary for the artist to follow his sketch 
with great rapidity, since the clay rapidly absorbed the coloring 
matter, and the outline was required to be bold and continuous, 
each time that it was joined detracting from its merit. A finely- 
ground slip was next laid upon a brush, and the figures and orna¬ 
ments were painted in. The whole was then covered with a very 
fine siliceous glaze, probably formed of soda and well-levigated 
sand. The vase was next sent to the furnace, and carefully 
baked. It was then returned to the workshop, where a workman 
or painter scratched in all the details with a pointed tool. The 


GREEK VASES. 


3 2 7 


faces of female figures were colored white, with a thick coat of 
lime or chalk, and the eyes red. Parts of the drapery, the crests 
ot helmets, and the antyges , or borders of shields, were colored 
with a crimson coat, consisting of an oxide of iron and lime, like 
a body color. 

In the second style of vases the figures are painted in a dark 
brown or black, of an unequal tone, on yellow ground, formed of a 
siliceous coating over the pale red clay of the vase. An improve¬ 
ment upon this style was the changing of the color of the figures 
by painting, or stopping out, all the ground of the vase in black, 
thus leaving the figures of the natural red of the clay, and the 
marking of the muscles and finer portions, as an outline, of bright 
brown. After the paint had dried, the slip, or the siliceous glaze, 
was laid over the vase, except the under part of the foot and the 
inside. The colors used were few and simple, and were evidently 
ground excessively fine, and made into a kind of slip. Of these 
colors the black was the most important and the most extensively 
used. Great difference has always existed as to the nature of 
this color. Vauquelin takes it to be a carbonaceous matter, such 
as plumbagine or black lead. The Due de Luynes asserts it to 
be an oxide of iron. Of opaque colors, the most important and 
extensively used is the white, said by Brongniart to be a carbon¬ 
ate of lime or fine clay. Red and yellow are sparingly used. 
Blue and green are rarely found, and only on vases of the latest 
styles. The liquid employed for mixing the colors is supposed to 
have been water. 

The sflaze with which these vases were covered is described 
by M. Brongniart as lustrous (lustre), and only one kind was 
used, the recipe for making which is now lost. It appears to have 
been composed of one of the principal alkalies, either potash or 
soda. The vases of Nola and Vulci are remarkable for the 
beauty and brilliancy of their glaze. 

According to d’Hancarville the vases were baked in a naked 



328 DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 

furnace. Representations of ancient furnaces occur on painted 
vases. The furnaces were of simple construction, in shape like 
tall ovens, fed by fires Irom beneath, into which the vases were 
placed with a long shovel resembling the baker’s peel. 

The colors being laid on in a different manner in the earlier 
and later vases has caused them to be distinguished into two 


VASE REPRESENTING A MARRIAGE. ( Found at Pompeii.) 

If 

general classes. In the earlier the ground is yellow or red, and 
the figures are traced on it in black, so as to form kinds of 
silhouettes. These are called the black or archaic vases; they 
are generally in an ancient style; their subjects belong to the 
most ancient mythological traditions, and their inscriptions to 
the most ancient forms of the Greek alphabet, written from right 

































GREEK VASES. 


3 2 9 

to left, or in boustrophedon. The draperies, the accessories, the 
harness of the horses, and the wheels of the chariots, are touched 
with white. At a later period, the whole vase was painted black, 
with the exception of the figures, which were then of the color 
of the clay of the vase; the contours of the figures, the hair, 
drapery, etc., being previously traced in black. There are then 
two general classes of Greek vases, distinguished by the figures, 
which are black or yellow. They are in general remarkable for 
the beauty and elegance of their forms. There is a great variety 
in their sizes; some being several feet high, and broad in propor¬ 
tion; others being not higher than an inch. The subject is 
on one side of the vase; sometimes it occupies the entire 
circumference, but more generally it is on one side alone, and 
then there is on the reverse some insignificant subject, generally 
two or three old men leaning on a stick,- instructing a young 
man, or presenting him with some instrument or utensil; a bac¬ 
chanalian scene is sometimes represented on the reverse. Some 
vases have been found with two subjects on the sides of the vase. 
On some of the finest vases, the subject goes round the entire 
circumference of the vase. On the foot, neck and other parts 
are the usual Greek ornaments, the Vitruvian scroll, the Me¬ 
ander, Palmetto, the honeysuckle. A garland sometimes adorns 
the neck, or, in its stead, a woman’s head issuing from a flower. 
These ornaments are in general treated with the greatest taste and 
elegance. Besides the obvious diflerence in the style of the vases, 
there is a remarkable diflerence in the execution of the paint¬ 
ings They are not all of the highest merit, but the boldness of 
the outlines is generally remarkable on them. They could be 
executed only with the greatest rapidity, the clay absorbing the 
colors very quickty, so that if a line was interrupted the joining 
would be perceptible. Some thought that the figures were exe¬ 
cuted by the means of patterns cut out, which being laid on the 
vase, preserved on the black ground the principal masses in yel- 


33° 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


low, which were finished afterwards with a brush. But this 
opinion of Sir William Hamilton has been abandoned by himself, 
particularly since the traces of a poipt have been recognized, 
with which the artist had at first sketched on the soft clay the 
principal outlines, which he afterwards finished with a brush dipped 
in the black pigment, without, however, strictly following the 
lines traced by the point. The traces of the point are rarely ob¬ 
served ; all depended on the skill and talent of the artists. They 
must have been very numerous, as these vases are found in such 
numbers, and the greater number may be considered as models 
for the excellence of their design and the taste of their composi¬ 
tion. Not unfrequently, the artists by whom the designs have 
been painted, have placed their names on them; the principal 
names known are those of Clitias, Doris who painted the cele¬ 
brated Francois vase, Asteas, and Epictetos. Clitias is the most 
ancient; his designs evince the infancy of art, those of the other 
artists display greater progress in the art; the name can be rec¬ 
ognized from the word painted, which follows it immediately. 
Some vases have the potter’s name inscribed on them. 

One of the earliest makers was Taleides. ' Nearly fifty names 
of potters have been found, but they only occur on choice speci¬ 
mens of art. On many vases the name of the artist appears 
along with that of the potter, which much enhances the value of 
the vase. On the celebrated Francois vase appear the name of 
the artist Clitias, and the name of the potter Ergotimos. Some 
potters, such as Amasis and Euphronius, painted as well as made 
vases. Other inscriptions are sometimes found on vases which 
enhance their value greatly. They are generally the names of 
gods, heroes, and other mythological personages, which are rep¬ 
resented in the paintings. 

These inscriptions are of great interest for two reasons : in 
the first place, from the form of the letters and the order accord¬ 
ing to which they are traced, the greater or lesser antiquit}’ of 


INSCRIPTIONS ON VASES. 


33 1 


the vase can be recognized, these inscriptions necessarily follow¬ 
ing all the changes of the Greek alphabet; care must be taken to 
examine whether the inscription goes from right to left, whether 
the long vowels, the double letters are replaced by the silent 
vowels, or single letters; these are in general signs of relative an¬ 
tiquity which prove that of the vase itself; secondly, because the 
names invariably explain the subject of the painting, and even in¬ 
dicate by a name hitherto unknown, either some personage who 
sometimes bore another name, or a person whose real name was 
unknown, in fine, some mythic being of whom ancient writers 
give us no information. 

The information derived from vases is of great importance 
for the study of Greek mythology viewed in its different epochs, 
and for the interpretation and understanding of ancient tragic or 
lyric poets. Moral or historical inscriptions, in prose and in verse, 
have also been found on vases. The letters of these inscriptions 
are capital or cursive; they are very delicately traced, and often 
require a great deal of attention to perceive. They are traced 
in black or white with a brush, sometimes they are incised with 
a very sharp point. 

On some which had been gifts to some “ beautiful youths,” 
we fi-nd the inscription, “the handsome boy,” and also the form, 
“the handsome Onetorides,” “the handsome Stroibos.” One 
yoi^th is called “the most handsome Hippocritus.” The names 
of females, whether brides, beauties, or hetairse, are found ac¬ 
companied with the expression, “the lovely OEnanthe,” “thefair 
Rodon.” On others, salutatory expressions are sometimes found, 
such as “ Hail to thee;” “ Happy as possible.” 

The subjects represented on painted vases, although of infinite 
variety, may be reduced to three classes, which include them all: 
i. Mythological subjects; 2. Heroic subjects; 3. Historical sub¬ 
jects. The Mythological subjects relate to the history of all the 
gods, and their adventures in human form are reproduced on them 


33 2 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


in a thousand shapes. It requires a deep and intimate knowledge 
of Greek mythology, in order to explain the different subjects. 
One of the oldest and most popular subjects in Greece was the 
Gigantomachia, which is found represented as a whole upon many 
vases, while others contain individual incidents from it. 

Among the Olympic deities represented, Zeus takes a prom¬ 
inent part. The father of the gods, the great thunderer, seldom 
appears alone, but is chiefly seen in scenes from the Heracleid and 
the Trojan war. On the black vases, and on those of the finest 
style with red figures, his amorous adventures are also frequently 
depicted. The goddess Hera rarely appears. 

Athene, the great lemale deity of the Ionic race, plays an 
important part in many scenes. As Pallas Athene she frequently 
appears; generally on foot, but sometimes in her quadriga. 
Poseidon, the sea god, appears as a subordinate in many scenes, 
and as a protagonist in others. Apollo, Artemis, Hephscstos, 
Ares, Aphrodite, and Hermes/ frequently appear in various 
scenes in the vases. The greater part of the paintings of the 
vases are relative to Dionysus, his festivals and mysteries. On 
them we see depicted his birth, childhood, education, all his ex¬ 
ploits, his banquets, and his games; his habitual companions, his 
religious ceremonies, the lampadephori brandishing the long 
torches, the dendrophori raising branches of trees, adorned with 
garlands and tablets; the initiated preparing for the mysteries ; 
lastly, the ceremonies peculiar to those great institutions, and the 
circumstances relative to their dogmas and their aim. The in¬ 
ferior deities also appear on the vases. 

The Historical subjects begin with the war of Troy. Paint¬ 
ers, as well as poets, found in this event a vast held to exercise 
their talents and their imagination. The principal actors in this 
memorable drama appear on the vases. The principal scenes of 
the Trojan war are depicted; but we must remark, that the his¬ 
torical subjects do not extend to a later period than that of the 
Pleracleidse. 


HISTORICAL SUBJECTS ON VASES. 


333 


Among the incidents represented are the opening scenes of 
the Iliad, the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles, Briseis led 
away by the heralds, Paris and Helen, the death of Patroclus, the 
grief of Achilles, the arming of Achilles, the death of Plector, 
Priam entreating for the corpse of Hector, the terrible scene of 



YASE REPRESENTING TROJAN WAR. (Found at Pompeii.) 


the last night of Troy. Many subjects from the Odyssey also 
occur. Incidents from the Greek drama are of common occur¬ 
rence, such as the death of Agamemnon, Orestes and Pylades 
meeting Electra, the death of Clytemnestra, the Furies pursuing 
Orestes. 

We may consider, as belonging to the class of historical 
vases, those with paintings relative to public and private customs; 
those representing games, repasts, scenic representations of com¬ 
bats af animals, hunting and funeral subjects. 











334 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


Millingen remarks that the subjects of the paintings vary ac¬ 
cording to the period and the places in which they have been 
executed; on the most ancient vases Dionysaic scenes are fre¬ 
quently seen. As, originally, the greater number were destined 
to contain wine, they were adorned with analogous subjects. 



vase. (Found at Pompeii .) 


Those of the beautiful period of the art, especially of the manu¬ 
facture of Nola, a town in which Greek institutions were observed 
with extreme care, present the ancient traditions of mythological 
episodes in all their purity. Those of a later period represent 
subjects taken from the tragic writers. Lastly, on those of the 
decline, we see depicted the new ceremonies and superstitions 
which were mingled with the ancient and simple religion of the 
Greek. Painted vases are, therefore, of the greatest interest for 
the study of the manners and customs of ancient Greece, and of 
those which the Romans adopted from her in imitation. 





































USES OF VASES. 


335 


As to the uses of these vases, there have been a variety of 
opinions; but a careful examination of a great number of vases 
would lead us to suppose that many were, doubtless, articles of 
household furniture, for use and adornment, such as the larger 
vases, destined, by their size, weight, and form, to remain in the 
same place, while others, of different sizes and shapes, were made 
to hold wine and other liquids, unguents, and perfumes. It is 
evident that they were more for ornament than use, and that they 
were considered as objects of art, for the paintings seem to have 
been executed by the best artists of the period. They were 
chiefly employed for entertainments, and the banquets of the 
wealthy. They are seen in use in scenes painted on the vases 
themselves. Many, especially those of the later style, were solely 
used for decorative purposes, as is evident from the fact of one 
side only being executed with care, while the other has been 
neglected, both in the drawing and in the subject. Those with 
Panathenaic subjects were probably given full of oil, as prizes at 
the national games. These were called Aililci. Certain vases 
bearing the inscription, u From Athens,' 1 or u Prize from Athens, 1 ’ 
seem to have been given to the victors in the pentathlon, or courses 
of athletic exercises in the Panathengea. Others may have been 
given at the palsestric festivals, or as nuptial presents, or as 
pledges of love and friendship; and these are marked by some 
appropriate inscription. 

We find that they were also used in the ceremonies of the 
Mysteries, for we see their forms represented on the vases them¬ 
selves : Bacchus frequently holds a cantharus, Satyrs carry a diota. 
A few seem to have been expressly for sepulchral purposes. Some 
have supposed that these vases were intended to hold the ashes 
of the dead; but this could not have been their use, for they are 
only found in tombs in which the bodies have been buried 1 with¬ 
out being burnt. The piety of the relations adorned the tomb of 
the deceased with those vases, together with his armor and 


33 6 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 



jewelry, which they had prized most in life, which were associ¬ 
ated with their habits, or recalled circumstances the memory of 
which they cherished. 

We could not but feel astonished at the perfect preservation 
of such fragile objects, did we not know that they were found in 
tombs. Those in which they are found, are placed near the walls, 
but outside the town, at a slight depth, except those of Nola, 
where the eruptions of Vesuvius have considerably raised the 
soil since the period when the tombs were made, so that some of 

the tombs of Nola are about 
twenty-one feet under ground. 

In Greece, the graves are 
generally small, being de¬ 
signed for single corpses, 
which accounts for the com¬ 
paratively small size of the 
vases discovered in that coun¬ 
try. At Athens the earlier 
graves are sunk deepest in 
the soil, and those at Corinth, 
especially such as contain 
the early Corinthian vases, 
are found by boring to a 
depth of several feet beneath 
the surface. 

The early tombs of Civita 
Vecchia, and Caere, or Cer- 
vetri, in Italy, are tunneled 
in the earth; and those at 
Vulci, and in the Etruscan 

•» 

territory, from which the finest and largest vases have been 
extracted, are chambers hewn in the rocks. In southern Italy, 
especially in Campania, the common tombs are constructed of 


A GREEK SACRIFICE. 



























































VASES FOUND IN TOMBS. 


337 


A 


rude stones or tiles, and are exactly of sufficient size to contain 
a corpse and five or six vases; a small one is placed near the 
head, and the others between the legs of the body, or they are 
ranged on each side, frequently on the left side alone. 

The number and beauty of the vases vary, probably, accord¬ 
ing: to the rank and fortune of the owner of the tomb. The 

O 

tombs of the first class are larger, and have been built with large 
cut stones, and rarely connected with cement; the walls inside are 
coated with stucco, and adorned with paintings; these tombs re¬ 
semble a small chamber; the corpse is laid out in the middle, the 
vases are placed round it, frequently some others are hung up to 
the walls on nails of bronze. The number of vases is always 
greater in these tombs; they are also of a more elegant form. 

Several other articles are sometimes found in the tombs, 
such as gold and silver fibulae, swords, spears, armor, and several 
ornaments. The objects buried with the 
corpse generally bespeak the tastes and 
occupation of the deceased. Warriors are 
found with their armor, women with or¬ 
naments for the toilet, priests with their 
sacerdotal ornaments, as in the tomb at 
Cervetri. When the vases are taken out 
of the excavations, they are covered with 
a coating of whitish earth, something like 
tartar, and of a calcareous nature; it dis¬ 
appears on the application of aqua fortis. 

This operation ought to be done with 

1 , , 2000 YEARS OLD. 

great caution; for though the aqua fortis 

does not injure the black varnish, it might destroy some of the 
other colors. 

Some of these vases are as well preserved as if they had just 
been issued from the hands of the potter; others.have been greatly 
• injured by the earthy salts with which they have come in contact; 



22 
















33 8 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


many are found broken—these have been put together and re¬ 
stored with great skill. But this work of restoration, especially 
if the artist adds any details which are not visible on the original, 
might alter or metamorphose a subject, and the archaeologist 
ought to set little value on these modern additions, in the study 
of a painted vase. 

Several collections have been formed of these vases. The 

British Museum contains the finest collections, purchased by gov- 

* « 

eminent from Sir William Hamilton and others. The Museum 
at Naples, and the Gregorian Museum in the Vatican, also con¬ 
tain many beautiful specimens from Magna Graecia and Etruria. 
The British Museum has about 2,600 vases of all kinds. The 
Museum at. Naples contains about 2,100, and the Gregorian 
Museum at Rome about 1,000. Several amateurs have also 
formed collections in England, France, and Italy. We may men¬ 
tion those of Roger, Hope, Sir Harry Englefield, in England ; 

those of the Due de Blacas, the Comte Pourtales, in France; and 

• 

that of the Marquis Campana, in Rome. The total number of 
vases in public and private collections probably amounts to 15,000 
of all kinds. Some of these collections have been published, such 
as the first collection of Sir William Hamilton, explained by 
d’Hancarville; the second by Tischbein. Several works have 
also been published, giving detailed accounts of painted vases in 
general. 

We have mentioned before the luxurious custom, common 
amongst the Romans after the conquest of Greece and Asia, of 
having their utensils of the table, and even of the kitchen, made 
of solid silver. Valuable plate was of common occurrence in 
the houses of the rich. According to Pliny, common soldiers 
had the handles of their swords and their belts studded with sil¬ 
ver; the baths of women were covered with the same valuable 
material, which was even used for the common implements of 
kitchen and scullery. Large manufactories of silver utensils were 



SILVER VESSELS. 


339 


started, in which each part of the work was assigned to a special 
artificer; here the orders of the silver-merchants were executed. 
Amongst the special workmen of these manufactories were 
the modelers, founders, turners or polishers, chiselers, the 
workmen who attached the bas-reliefs to the surface of the ves¬ 
sel, and the gilders. Many valuable vessels have been recov¬ 
ered in the present century; others (for instance, several hundred 



silver vessels found near the old Falerii) have tracelessly disap= 
peared. Amongst the discoveries which happily have escaped 
the hands of the melter, we mention the treasure of more than 
one hundred silver vessels, weighing together about 50 pounds, 
found by Berney in Normandy (1830). According to their in¬ 
scriptions, these vessels belonged to the treasury of a temple of 
Mercury; they are at present in the late imperial library at Paris. 
In the south of Russia the excavations carried on in 1831, 1862, 


































34 ° 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


and 1863, amongst the graves of the kings ol the Bosphoric em¬ 
pire, have yielded an astonishing number ot gold and silver ves¬ 
sels and ornaments belonging to the third century ot our era. 
At Pompeii fourteen silver vases were discovered in 1835; at 
Caere (1836) a number of silver vases (now in the Museo Grego* 



found at hildesheim. (Of the first century .) 

riano) were found in a grave. One of the most interesting dis¬ 
coveries was made near Hildesheim, 7th October, 1868, consist¬ 
ing of seventy-four eating and drinking vessels, mostly well pre¬ 
served ; not to speak of numerous fragments which seem to prove 
that only part of the original treasure has been recovered; the 
weight of all the vessels (now in the Antiquarium of the Royal 
Museum, Berlin) amounts to 107.144 lbs., some over 53 tons, of 
silver. The style and technical finish of the vases prove them 
to have been manufactured in Rome; the form of the letters of 










DECORATED VASES. 


34 1 


% 


the inscriptions found on twenty-four vessels indicates the first 
half of the first century after Christ. The surfaces of many of 
them are covered with alto-relievos of beaten silver—a circum¬ 
stance which traces back their origin to imperial times, dis¬ 
tinguishing them, at the same time, from the bas-relief orna¬ 
mentations of the acme of 
Greek art. The gilding 
of the draperies and weap¬ 
ons, and the silver color 
of the naked parts, in imi¬ 
tation, as it were, of the 
gold-and-ivory statues of 
Greek art, also indicate 
Roman workmanship. The 
annexed cuts show some 
of the finest pieces of this 
treasure. The composition 
of the figures on the surface of the vase in cut on page 340 shows 
true artistic genius; naked 
children are balancing them¬ 
selves on water-plants grow¬ 
ing in winding curves from 
a pair of griffins; some of the 
children attack crabs and eels 
with harpoons, while others 
drag the killed animals from 

_ VASE OF THE FIRST CENTURY. 

the water. The graceful 

groups on the drinking-vessels in the above cuts are mostly 
taken from the Bacchic cycle of myths. 

Besides vessels of precious metals and stones, those of glass 
were in favorite use among the Romans. The manufactory of 
glass, originating in Sidon, had reached its climax of perfection, 
both with regard to color and form, in Alexandria about the 

















34 2 


DOMESTIC UTENSILS. 


time of the Ptolemies. Many of these Alexandrine glasses have 
been preserved to us, and their beauty fully explains their supe¬ 
riority in the opinion of the ancients to those manufactured in 
Italy. Here also, after the discovery of excellent sand at Cumae 
and Linternum, glass works had been established. Most of our 
museums possess some specimens of antique glass manufacture, 
in the shape of balsam or medicine bottles of white or colored 
glass. We also possess goblets and drinking-bottles of various 
shapes and sizes, made of white or common green glass; they 
generally taper toward the bottom, and frequently show grooves 
or raised points on their outer surfaces, so as to prevent the glass 
from slipping from the hand; urns, oinochoai, and dishes of 
various sizes made of glass, are of frequent occurrence. Some 
of these are dark blue or green, others party-colored with stripes 
winding round them in zigzag or in spiral lines, reminding one 
of mosaic patterns. Pieces of glittering glass, being most likely 
fragments of so-called allassontes versicolores (not to be mistaken 
for originally white glass which has been discolored by exposure 
to the weather), are not unfrequently found. We propose to 
name in the following pages a few of the more important speci¬ 
mens of antique glass-fabrication. One of the first amongst 
these is the vessel known as the Barberini or Portland Vase, 
which was found in the sixteenth century in the sarcophagus of 
the so-called tomb of Severus Alexander and of his mother Julia 
Mammsea. It was kept in the Barberini Palace for several 
centuries, till it was purchased by the Duke of Portland, after 
whose death it was placed in the British Museum. After having 
been broken by the hand of a barbarian, it has fortunately been 
restored satisfactorily. Many reproductions of this vase in china 
and terra-cotta have made it known in wide circles. The mytho¬ 
logical bas-reliefs have not as yet been sufficiently explained. 
Similar glass vases with bas-relief ornamentation occur occasion¬ 
ally either whole or in fragments. 





Many arts and inventions were in common use in Egypt for 
centuries before they are generally supposed to have been known; 
and we are now and then as much surprised to find that certain 
things were old 3,000 years ago, as the Egyptians would be if they 
could hear us talk of them as late discoveries. One of them is 
the use of glass, with which they were acquainted at least as 
early as the reign of the first Osirtasen, more than 3,800 years 
ago; and the process of glass-blowing is represented during his 
reign, in the paintings of Beni Hassan, in the same manner as it 
is on later monuments, in different parts of Egypt, to the time 
of the Persian conquest. 

The form of the bottle and the use of the blow-pipe are un¬ 
equivocally indicated in those subjects; and the green hue of the 
fused material, taken from the fire at the point of the pipe, suffi¬ 
ciently proves the intention of the artist. But, even if we had 
not this evidence of the use of glass, it would be shown by those 
well-known images of glazed pottery, which were common at the 
same period; the vitrified substance that covers them being of the 
same quality as glass, and containing the same ingredients fused 
in the same manner. And besides the many glass ornaments 
known to be of an earlier period is a bead, found at Thebes, 
bearing the name of a Pharaoh who lived about 1450 B. C., the 
specific gravity of which, 25 0 23', is precisely the same as of 
crown glass, now manufactured in England. 

343 












344 


EMPLOYMENT. 


Glass bottles are even met with on monuments of the 4th 
dynasty, dating long before the Osirtasens, or more than 4,000 
years ago; the transparent substance shows the red wine they 
contained; and this kind of bottle is represented in the same 
manner among the offerings to the gods, and at the fetes of indi¬ 
viduals, wherever wine was introduced, from the earliest to the 
latest times. Bottles, and other objects of glass, are commonly 
found in the tombs; and though they have no kings’names or 
dates inscribed upon them (glass being seldom used for such a 
purpose), no doubt exists of their great antiquity; and we may 
consider it a fortunate chance that has preserved one bead with 
the name of a sovereign of the 18th dynasty. Nor is it necessary 
to point out how illogical is the inference that, because other 
kinds of glass have not been found bearing a king’s name, 
they were not made in Egypt, at, or even before, the same early 
period. 

Pliny ascribes the discovery of glass to some Phoenician 
sailors accidently lighting a lire on the sea-shore; but if an effect 
of chance, the secret is more likely to have been arrived at in 
Egypt, where natron (or subcarbonate of soda) abounded, than 
by the sea side; and if the Phoenicians really were the first to 
discover it on the Syrian coast, this would prove their migration 
from the Persian Gulf to have happened at a very remote period. 
Glass was certainly one of the great exports of the Phoenicians; 
who traded in beads, bottles, and other objects of that material, 
as well as various manufactures, made either in their own or in 
other countries; but Egypt was always famed for its manufacture; 
a peculiar kind of earth was found near Alexandria, without 
which, Strabo says, “it was impossible to make certain kinds 
of glass of many colors, and of a brilliant quality,” and some 
vases, presented by an Egyptian priest to the Emperor Hadrian, 
were considered so curious and valuable that they were only used 
on grand occasions. 

O 


COLORED GLASS VESSELS. 


345 


Glass bottles, of various colors, were eagerly bought from 
Egypt, and exported into other countries; and the manufacture as 
well as the patterns of many of those found in Greece, Etruria, 
and Rome, show that they were of Egyptian work; and though 
imitated in Italy and Greece, the original art was borrowed from 
the workmen of the Nile. 

Such, too, was their skill in making glass, and in the mode of 
staining it of various hues, that they counterfeited with success 
the emerald, the amethyst, and other precious stones; and even 
arrived at an excellence in the art of introducing numerous 
colors into the same vase, to which our European workmen, in 
spite of their improvements in many branches of this manufac¬ 
ture, are still unable to attain. A few years ago the glass-makers 
of Venice made several attempts to imitate the variety of colors 
found in antique cups; but as the component parts were of dif¬ 
ferent densities, they did not all cool, or set, at the same rapidity, 
and the vase was unsound. And it is only by making an inner 
foundation of one color, to which those of the outer surface are 
afterwards added, that they have been able to produce their 
many-colored vases; some of which were sent to the Great Exhi¬ 
bition of 1851. 

Not so the Egyptians, who combined all the colors they re¬ 
quired in the same cup, without the interior lining: those which 
had it being of inferior and cheaper quality. They had even the 
secret of introducing gold between two surfaces of glass; and in 
their bottles, a gold band alternates within a set of blue, green, 
and other colors. Another curious process was also common in 
Egypt in early times, more than 3,000 years ago, which has only 
just been attempted at Venice; whereby the pattern on the surface 
was made to pass in right lines directly through the substance; 
so that if any number of horizontal sections were made through 
it, each one would have the same device on its upper and under 
surface. It is in fact a Mosaic in glass; made by fusing together 


34 6 


EMPLOYMENT 


as many delicate rods of an opaque glass of the color required for 
the picture, in the same manner as the woods in Tunbridge-ware 
are glued together, to lorm a larger and coarser pattern. The 
skill required in this exquisite work is not only shown by the art 
itself, but the fineness of the design; for some of the feathers of 



ANCIENT GLASS VESSELS. 


birds, and other details, are only to be made out with a lens; 
which means of magnifying was evidently used in Egypt, when 
this Mosaic glass was manufactured. Indeed, the discovery of a 
lens of crystal by Mr. Layard, at Nimroud, satisfactorily proves 
its use at an early period in Assyria ; and we may conclude 
that it was neither a recent discovery there, nor confined to 
that country. 

Winkleman is of opinion that u the ancients carried the art 






























































































































































































IMITATION JEWELS. 


347 


ol glass-making to a higher degree ol perfection than ourselves, 
though it may appear a paradox to those who have not seen their 
works in this material;” and we may even add that they used it 
for more purposes, excepting ot course windows, the inconvenience 
of which in the hot sun of Egypt would have been unbearable, 
or even in Italy, and only one 
pane of glass has been found 
at Pompeii, in a place not 
exposed to the outer light. 

That the Egyptians, more 
than 3,000 } 7 ears ago, were 
well acquainted not only with 
the manufacture of common 
glass, for beads and bottles of 
ordinary quality, but with 
the art of staining it with 
divers colors, is sufficiently proved by the fragments found 
in the tombs of Thebes; and so skillful were they in this compli¬ 
cated process, that they imitated the most fanciful devices, and 
succeeded in counterfeiting the rich hues, and brilliancy, of 
precious stones. The green emerald, the purple amethyst, and 
other expensive gems, were successfully imitated; a necklace of 
false stones could be purchased at an Egyptian jeweler’s, to please 
the wearer, or deceive a stranger, by the appearance of reality; 
and some mock pearls (found lately at Thebes) have been so 
well counterfeited, that even now it is difficult with a strong lens 
to detect the imposition. 

Pliny says the emerald was more easily counterfeited than 
any other gem, and considers the art of imitating precious stones 
a far more lucrative piece of deceit than any devised by the inge¬ 
nuity of man; Egypt was, as usual, the country most noted for 
this manufacture; and we can readily believe that in Pliny’s time 
they succeeded so completely in the imitation as to render it dif¬ 
ficult to distinguish false from real stones. 





34 s 


EMPLOYMENT. 


Many, in the form of beads, have been met with in different 
parts of Egypt, particularly at Thebes; and so far did the Egyp 
tians carry this spirit of imitation, that even small figures, scara- 
bsei, and objects made of ordinary porcelain, were counterfeited, 
being composed of still cheaper materials. A figure, which 
was entirely of earthenware, with a glazed exterior, underwent a 
somewhat more complicated process than when cut out of stone, 
and simply covered with a vitrified coating; this last could, there¬ 
fore, be sold at a low price; it offered all the brilliancy of the 
former, and its weight alone betrayed its inferiority; by which 
means, whatever was novel, or pleasing from its external appear- 



IMITATION OP REAL STONES. 


ance, was placed within reach of all classes, or, at least, the 
possessor had the satisfaction of seeming to partake in each fash¬ 
ionable novelty. 

Such inventions, and successful endeavors to imitate costly 
ornaments by humbler materials, not only show the progress of 
art among the Egyptians, but strongly argue the great advance¬ 
ment they had made in the customs of civilized life; since it is 
certain, that until society has arrived at a high degree of luxury 
and refinement, artificial wants of this nature are not created, and 
the poorer classes do not yet feel the desire of imitating the rich, 
in the adoption of objects dependent on taste or accidental caprice. 

Glass bugles and beads were much used by the Egyptians 
for necklaces, and for a sort of network, with which they covered 











POTTERS. 


349 


the wrappers and cartonage of mummies. They were arranged 
so as to form, by their varied hues, numerous devices or figures, 
in the manner of our bead purses; and women sometimes amused 
themselves by stringing them for ornamental purposes, as at the 
present day. 

A far more numerous class were the potters; and all the 
processes of mixing the clay, and of turning, baking and polish¬ 
ing the vases are represented in the tombs of Thebes and Beni 
Hassan, of which we have already spoken. 

They frequently kneaded the clay with their feet, and after 
it had been properly worked up, they formed it into a mass of 
convenient size with the hand, and placed it on the wheel, which 
was of very simple construction, and generally turned with the 
hand. The various forms of the vases were made out by the 
finger during the revolution; the handles, if they had any, were 
afterwards affixed to them; and the devices and other orna¬ 
mental parts were traced with a wooden or metal instrument, 
previous to their being baked. They were then suffered to dry, 
and for this purpose were placed on planks of wood; they were 
afterwards arranged with great care in trays, and carried, by 
means of the usual yoke, borne on men’s shoulders, to the oven. 

The Egyptians displayed much taste in their gold, silver, 
porcelain, and glass vases, but when made of earthenware, for 
ordinary purposes, they were frequently devoid of elegance, and 
scarcely superior to those of England before the taste of Wedge- 
wood substituted the graceful forms of Greek models, for some 
of the unseemly productions of our old potteries. Though the 
clay of Upper Egypt was particularly suited to porous bottles, it 
could be obtained of a sufficiently fine quality for the manufac¬ 
ture of vases like those of Greece and Italy; in Egypt, too, good 
taste did not extend to all classes, as in Greece; and vases used 
for fetching water from a well, or from the Nile, were of a very 
ordinary kind, far inferior to those carried by the Athenian wo¬ 
men to the fountain of Kallirhoe. 


35° 


EMPLOYMENT. 


The Greeks, it is true, were indebted to Egypt for much 
useful knowledge, and for many early hints in art, but they 
speedily surpassed their instructors; and in nothing, perhaps, 
is this more strikingly manifested than in the productions of the 
potter. Samples of the more common are seen below. 

Carpenters and cabinet-makers were a very numerous class 
of workmen; and their occupations form one of the most im¬ 
portant subjects in the paintings which represent the Egyptian 
trades. 

For ornamental purposes, and sometimes even for coffins, 
doors and boxes, foreign woods were employed; deal and cedar 
were imported from Syria; and part of the contributions, exacted 



ANCIENT EGYPTIAN POTTERY. 


from the conquered tribes of Ethiopia, and Asia, consisted in 
ebony and other rare woods, which were annually brought by 
the chiefs, deputed to present their country’s tribute to the 
Egyptian Pharaohs. 

Boxes, chairs, tables, sofas, and other pieces of furniture 
were frequently made of ebony, inlaid with ivory, sycamore and 
acacia, were veneered with thin layers, or ornamented with carved 
devices of rare wood, applied or let into them; and a fondness for 
this display suggested to the Egyptians the art of painting com¬ 
mon boards, to imitate foreign varieties, so generally adopted in 
other countries at the present day. 

The colors were usually applied on a thin coating of stucco, 
laid smoothly upon the previously .prepared wood, and the vari¬ 
ous knots and grains painted upon this ground indicated the 
quality of the wood they intended to counterfeit. 










carpenter’s tools. 


35 1 

The usual tools of the carpenter were the ax, adze, hand¬ 
saw, chisels of various kinds (which were struck with a wooden 
mallet), the drill, and two sorts of planes (one resembling a 
chisel, the other apparently of stone, acting as a rasp on the sur¬ 
face of the wood, which was afterwards polished by a smooth 
body, probably also of stone; and these, with the ruler, plummet, 
and right angle, a leather bag containing nails, the hone, and the 
horn of oil, constituted the principal, and perhaps the only, im¬ 
plements he used. 

Many adzes, saws and chisels, have been found at Thebes. 
The blades are all of bronze, the handles of the acacia or the 
tamarisk; and the general mode of fastening the blade to the 
handle appears to have been by thongs of hide. It is probable 
that some of those discovered in the tombs are only models, or 
unfinished specimens, and it may have been thought sufficient to 
show their external appearance, without the necessity of nailing 
them, beneath the thongs, for those they worked with were 
bound in the same manner, though we believe them to have been 
also secured with nails. Some, however, evidently belonged to 
the individuals in whose tombs they were buried, and appear to 
have been used; and the chisels often bear signs of having been 
beaten with the mallet. 

The drill is frequently represented in the sculptures. Like 
all the other tools, it was of the earliest date, and precisely sim¬ 
ilar to that of modern Egypt, even to the nut of the dom in 
which it turned, and the form of its bow with a leathern thong. 

The chisel was employed for the same purposes, and in the 
same manner, as at the present day, and was struck with a 
Avooden mallet, sometimes flat at the two ends, sometimes of 
circular or oval form; several of which last have been found at 
Thebes, and are in European museums. The handles of the 
chisel were of acacia, tamarisk, or other compact wood, the 
blades of bronze, and the form of the points varied in breadth, 
according to the work for which they were intended. 


35 2 


EMPLOYMENT. 


The hatchet was principally used by boat-builders, and those 
who made large pieces of frame-work; and trees were felled 
with the same instrument. 

With the carpenters may be mentioned the wheelwrights, 
the makers of coffins, and the coopers, and this sub-division of 
one class of artisans shows that they had systematically adopted 
the partition of labor. 

The makers of chariots and traveling carriages were of the 
same class; but both carpenters and workers of leather were 
employed in their manufacture; and chariots either passed 
through the hands of both, or, which is more probable, chariot 
makers constituted a distinct trade. 

The tanning and preparation of leather was also a branch 
of art in which the Egyptians evinced considerable skill; the 
leather cutters constituted one of the principal sub-divisions of 
the fourth-class, and a district of the city was exclusively appro¬ 
priated to them, in the Libyan part of Thebes, where they were 
known as u the leather-cutters of the Memnonia. 7 ’ 

Many of the occupations of their trade are portrayed on the 
painted walls of the tombs at Thebes. They made shoes, san¬ 
dals, the coverings and seats of chairs or sofas, bow-cases, and 
most of the ornamental furniture of the chariot; harps were also 
adorned with colored leather, and shields and numerous other 
things were covered with skin prepared in various ways. They 
also make skins for carrying water, wine, and other liquids, 
coated within with a resinous substance, as is still the custom in 
Egypt. 

The stores of an Egyptian town were probably similar to 
those of Cairo and other Eastern cities, which consist of a square 
room, open in front, with falling or sliding shutters to close it at 
night, and the goods, ranged on shelves or suspended against the 
walls, are exposed to the view of those who pass. In front is 
generally a raised seat, where the owner of the shop and his 


PROFESSIONS. 


353 


customers sit during the long process of concluding a bargain 
previous to the sale and purchase of the smallest article, and here 
an idle lounger frequently passes whole hours, less intent on 
benefiting the merchant than in amusing himself with the busy 
scene of the passing crowd. 

It is probable that, as at the present day, they ate in the 
open front of their shops, exposed to the view of every one who 
passed, and to this custom Herodotus may allude, when he says, 
“the Egyptians eat in the street.'” 

There is no direct evidence that the ancient Egyptians 
affixed the name and trade of the owner of the shop, though the 
presence of hieroglyphics, denoting this last, together with the 
emblem which indicated it, may seem to argue in favor of the 
question; and the absence of many individuals’ names in the 
sculpture is readily accounted for by the fact that these scenes 
refer to the occupation of the whole trade, and not to any partic¬ 
ular person. 

The high estimation in which the priestly and military pro¬ 
fessions were held in Egypt placed them far above the rest of the 
community; but the other classes had also their degrees of con¬ 
sequence, and individuals enjoyed a position and importance in 
proportion to their respectability, their talents, or their wealth. 

According to Herodotus, the whole Egyptian community was 
divided into seven tribes, one of which was the sacerdotal, an¬ 
other of the soldiers, and the remaining five of the herdsmen, 
swineherds, merchants, interpreters, and boatmen. Diodorus 
states that, like the Athenians, they were distributed into three 
classes—the priests, the peasants, or husbandmen, from whom 
the soldiers were levied, and the artisans, who were employed in 
handicraft and other similar occupations, and in common offices 
among the people—but in another place he extends the number 
to five, and reckons the pastors, husbandmen, and artificers 
independent of the soldiers and priests. Strabo limits them to 

23 




354 


EMPLOYMENT. 


three, the military, husbandmen, and priests; and Plato divides 
them into six bodies, the priests, artificers, shepherds, huntsmen, 
husbandmen, and soldiers; each peculiar art or occupation he 
observes being confined to a certain sub-division of the caste, 
and every one being engaged in his own branch without inter¬ 
fering with the occupation of another. Hence it appears that 
the first class consisted of the priests, the second of the soldiers, 
the third of the husbandmen, gardeners, huntsmen, boatmen of 
the Nile, and others; the fourth of artificers, tradesmen and 
merchants, carpenters, boat-builders, masons, and probably pot¬ 
ters, public weighers, and notaries; and in the fifth may be 
reckoned pastors, poulterers, fowlers, fishermen, laborers, and, 
generally speaking, the common people. Many of these were 
again sub-divided, as the artificers and tradesmen, according to 
their peculiar trade or occupation; and as the pastors, into ox¬ 
herds, shepherds, goatherds, and swineherds, which last were, 
according to Herodotus, the lowest grade, not only of the class, 
but of the whole community, since no one would either marry 
their daughters or establish any family connection with them. 
So degrading was the occupation of tending swine, that they 
were looked upon as impure, and were even forbidden to enter a 
temple without previously undergoing a purification; and the 
prejudices of the Indians against this class of persons almost 
justify our belief in the statement of the historian. 

Without stopping to inquire into the relative rank of the 
different sub-divisions of the third class, the importance of agri¬ 
culture in a country like Egypt, where the richness and produc¬ 
tiveness of the soil have always been proverbial, suffices to claim 
the first place for the husbandmen. 

The abundant supply of grain and other produce gave to 
Egypt advantages which no other country possessed. Not only 
was her dense population supplied with a profusion of the neces¬ 
saries of life, but the sale of the surplus conferred considerable 


HUSBANDRY. 


355- 


benefits on the peasant in addition to the profits which thence 
accrued to the state, for Egypt was a granary, where, from the 
earliest times, all people felt sure of finding a plenteous store of 
corn, and some idea may be formed of the immense quantity 
produced there from the circumstance of “ seven plenteous 
years ” affording, from the superabundance of the crops, a suf¬ 
ficiency of corn to supply the whole population during seven 
years of dearth, as well as u all countries 11 which sent to Egypt 
u to buy ” it, when Pharaoh, by the advice of Joseph, laid up 
the annual surplus for that purpose. 

The right of exportation, and the sale of superfluous pro¬ 
duce to foreigners, belonged exclusively to the government, as is 
distinctly shown by the sale of corn to the Israelites from the 
royal stores, and the collection having been made by Pharaoh 
only; and it is probable that even the rich landowners were in 
the habit of selling to government whatever quantity remained 
on hand at the approach of each successive harvest, while the 
agricultural laborers, from their frugal mode of living, required 
very little wheat and barley, and were generally contented, as at 
the present day, with bread made of the Door a flour; children 
and even grown persons, according to Diodorus, often living on 
roots and esculent herbs, as the papyrus, lotus, and others, either 
raw, toasted, or boiled. 

The government did not interfere directly with the peasants 
respecting the nature of the produce they intended to cultivate; 
and the vexations of later times were unknown under the Pha¬ 
raohs. They were thought to have the best opportunities of 
obtaining, from actual observation, an accurate knowledge on all 
subjects connected with husbandry, and, as Diodorus observes, 
“ being from their infancy brought up to agricultural pursuits, 
they far excelled the husbandmen of other countries, and had 
become acquainted with the capabilities of the land, the mode 
of irrigation, the exact season for sowing and reaping, as well as 


35 6 


EMPLOYMENT. 


all the most useful secrets connected with the harvest, which 
they had derived from their ancestors, and had improved by 
their own experience.” u They rented,” says the same historian, 
“ the arable lands belonging to the kings, the priests, and the 
military class, for a small sum, and employed their whole time 
in the tillage of their farms,” and the laborers who cultivated 
land for the rich peasant, or other landed proprietors, were super¬ 
intended by the steward or owner of the estate, who had author¬ 
ity over them, and the power of condemning delinquents to the 
bastinado. This is shown by the paintings of the tombs, which 
frequently represent a person of consequence inspecting the till¬ 
age of the field, either seated in a chariot, walking, or leaning 
on his staff, accompanied by a favorite dog. 

Their mode of irrigation was the same in the field of the 
peasant as in the garden of the villa; and the principal difference 
in the mode of tilling the former consisted in the use of the plow. 

The usual contrivance for raising water from the Nile for 
watering the crops was the shadoof\ or pole and bucket, so com¬ 
mon still in Egypt, and even the water-wheel appears to have 
been employed in more recent times. 

The sculptures of the tombs frequently represent canals con¬ 
veying the water of the inundation into the fields, and the pro¬ 
prietor of the estate is seen, as described by Virgil, plying in a 
light painted skiff or papyrus punt, and superintending the main¬ 
tenance of the dykes, or other important matters connected with 
the land. Boats carry the grain to the granary, or remove the 
flocks from the lowlands; as the water subsides the husbandman 
plows the soft earth with a pair of oxen, and the same subjects 
introduce the offering of first-fruits of the gods in acknowl¬ 
edgment of the benefits conferred by “a favorable Nile.” The 
main canal was usually carried to the upper or southern side 
of the land, and small branches, leading from it at intervals, 
traversed the fields in straight or curving lines, according to the 
nature or elevation of the soil. ' 


RISE OF THE NILE. 


Guards were placed to watch the dykes which protected the 
lowlands, and the utmost care was taken to prevent any sudden 
influx of water which might endanger the produce still growing 
there, the cattle, or the villages. And of such importance was 
the preservation of the dykes that a strong guard of cavalry and 
infantry was always in attendance for their protection; certain 
officers of responsibility were appointed to superintend them, 
being furnished with large sums of money for their maintenance 
and repairs, and in the time of Romans any person found de¬ 
stroying a dyke was condemned to hard labor in the public 
works or in the mines, or was branded and transported to the 
Oasis. According to Strabo, the system was so admirably man¬ 
aged, “ that art contrived sometimes to supply what nature de¬ 
nied, and, by means of canals and embankments, there was 
little difference in the quantity of land irrigated, whether the 
inundation was deficient or abundant.” “If,” continues the geog¬ 
rapher, “ it rose only to the height of eight cubits, the usual 
idea was that a famine would ensue, fourteen being required for 
a plentiful harvest; but when Petronius was praefect of Egypt 
twelve cubits gave the same abundance, nor did they suffer from 
want even at eight;” and it may be supposed that long experi¬ 
ence had taught the ancient Egyptians to obtain similar results 
from the same means, which, neglected at a subsequent period, 
were revived, rather than, as Strabo thinks, first introduced, by 
the Romans. 

In some parts of Egypt the villages were liable to be over¬ 
flowed when the Nile rose to more than an ordinary height, by 
which the lives and property of the inhabitants were endangered, 
and when their crude brick houses had been long exposed to the 
damp the foundations gave way, and the fallen walls, saturated 
with water, were once more mixed with the mud from which 
they had been extracted. On these occasions the blessings of 
the Nile entailed heavy losses on the inhabitants, for, according 


35 8 


EMPLOYMENT. 


to Pliny, “ if the rise of water exceeded sixteen cubits famine 
was the result, as when it only reached the height of twelve.” 
In another place he says, “ a proper inundation is of sixteen 
cubits * * *• * in twelve cubits the country suffers from 
famine, and feels a deficiency even in thirteen; fourteen cause 
joy, fifteen security, sixteen delight; the greatest rise of the 
river to this period being of eighteen cubits, in the reign of 
Claudius; the least during the Pharsalic war.” 

The land being cleared of the water, and presenting in 
some places a surface* of liquid mud, in others nearly dried by 
the sun and the strong northwest winds (that continue at inter¬ 
vals to the end of Autumn and commencement of Winter), the 
husbandman prepared the ground to receive the seed, which was 
either done by the plow and hoe, or by more simple means, ac¬ 
cording to the nature of the soil, the quality of the produce they 
intended to cultivate, or the time the land had remained under 
water. 

When the levels were low and the water had continued 
long upon the land they often dispensed with the plow, and, like 
their successors, broke up the ground with hoes, or simply 
dragged the moist mud with bushes after the seed had been 
thrown upon the surface, and then merely drove a number of 
cattle, asses, pigs, sheep, or goats into the field to tread in the 
grain. u In no country,” says Herodotus, “do they gather their 
seed with so little labor. They are not obliged to trace deep 
furrows with the plow and break the clods, nor to partition out 
their fields into numerous forms as other people do, but when 
the river of itself overflows the land, and the water retires again, 
they sow their fields, driving the pigs over them to tread in the 
seed, and this being done every one patiently awaits the har¬ 
vest.” On other occasions they used to plow, but were con¬ 
tented, as we are told by Diodorus and Columella, with “ tracing 
slight furrows with light plows on the surface of the land,” and 


AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS. 


359 


others followed with wooden hoes to break the clods of the rich 
and tenacious soil. 

The modern Egyptians sometimes substitute for the hoe a 
machine called klionfud , u hedgehog,” which consists of a cyl¬ 
inder studded with projecting iron pins, to break the clods after 
the land has been plowed, but this is only used when great care 
is required in the tillage of the land, and they frequently dispense 
with the hoe, contenting themselves, also, with the same slight 
furrows as their predecessors, which do not exceed the depth of 
a few inches, measuring from the lowest part to the summit of 
the ridge. It is difficult to say if the modern Egyptians derived 
the hint of the u hedgehog ” from their predecessors, but it is a 
curious fact that a clod-crushing machine, not very unlike that 
of Egypt, has only lately been invented in England, which was 
shown at the Great Exhibition. 

The ancient plow was entirely of wood, and of as simple a 
form as that of modern Egypt. It consisted of a share, two 
handles, and the pole or beam, which last was inserted into the 
lower end of the stilt, or the base of the handles, and was 
strengthened by a rope connecting it with the heel. It had no 
coulter, nor were wheels applied to any Egyptian plow, but it is 
probable that the point was shod with a metal sock, either of 
bronze or iron. It was drawn by two oxen, and the plowman 
guided and drove them with a long goad, without the assistance 
of reins, which are used by modern Egyptians. He was some¬ 
times accompanied by another man, who drove the animals, 
while he managed the two handles of the plow, and sometimes 
the whip was substituted for the more usual goad. 

Cows were occasionally put to the plow, and it may not 
have been unknown to them that the cow plows quicker than 
the ox. 

The mode of yoking the beasts was exceedingly simple. 
Across the extremity of the pole, a wooden yoke or cross-bar, 


EMPLOYMENT. 


36° 

about fifty-five inches, or five feet, in length was fastened by a 
strap lashed backwards and forwards over a prominence project¬ 
ing from the centre of the yoke, which corresponded to a similar 
peg, or knob, at the end of the pole, and, occasionally, in addi¬ 
tion to these, was a ring passing over them as in some Greek 
chariots. At either end of the yoke was a flat or slightly concave 
projection, of semi-circular form, which rested on a pad placed 
upon the withers of the animal, and through a hole on either 
side of it passed a thong for suspending the shoulder-pieces 
which formed the collar. These were two wooden bars, forked 
at about half their length, padded so as to protect the shoulder 
from friction, and connected at the lower end by a strong broad 
band passing under the throat. 

Sometimes the draught, instead of being from the withers, 
was from the head, the yoke being tied to the base of the horns, 
and in religious ceremonies oxen frequently drew the bier, or the 
sacred shrine, by a rope fastened to the upper part of the horns, 
without either yoke or pole. 

From a passage in Deuteronomy, u Thou shalt not plow 
with an ox and an ass together, 17 it might be inferred that the 
custom of yoking two different animals to the plow was common 
in Egypt; but it was evidently not so, and the Hebrew lawgiver 
had probably in view a practice adopted by some of the people 
of Syria, whose country the Israelites were about to occupy. 

The hoe was of wood, like the fork, and many other imple¬ 
ments of husbandry, and in form was not unlike the letter A, 
with one limb shorter than the other, and curving inwards. 
The longer limb, or handle, was of uniform thickness, round and 
smooth, sometimes with a knob at the end, and the lower ex¬ 
tremity of the blade was of increased breadth, and either ter¬ 
minated in a sharp point, or was rounded at the end. The blade 
was frequently inserted into the handle, and they were bound 
together, about the centre, with twisted rope. Being the most 


AGRICULTURE. 


3 61 


common tool, answering for hoe, spade, and pick, it is frequently 
represented in the sculptures, and several, which were found in 
the tombs of Thebes, are preserved in the museums of Europe. 

The hoe in hieroglyphics stands for the letter M, though 
the name of this instrument was in Egyptian, as in Arabic, Tore . 
It forms the commencement of the word Mai , u beloved ,” and 
enters into numerous other combinations. 

There are no instances of hoes with metal blades, except of 
very late time, nor is there any proof of the plowshare having 
been sheathed with metal. 

The ax had a metal blade, either bronze or iron, and the 
peasants are sometimes represented felling trees with this imple¬ 
ment, while others are employed in hoeing the field preparatory 
to its being sown—confirming what we have observed, that the 
ancient, as well as the modern, Egyptians frequently dispensed 
with the use of the plow. 

The admission of swine into the fields, mentioned by Herod¬ 
otus, should rather have been before than after they had sown 
the land, since their habits would do little good to the farmer, 
and other animals would answer as well for u treading in the 
grain;” but they may have been used before for clearing the 
fields of the roots and weeds encouraged by the inundation; and 
this seems to be confirmed by the herd of pigs with water plants 
represented in the tombs. 

They sometimes used a top dressing of nitrous soil, which 
was spread over the surface; a custom continued to the present 
day; but this was confined to certain crops, and principally to 
those reared late in the year, the fertilizing properties of the 
alluvial deposit answering all the purposes of the richest manure. 

Besides the admixture of nitrous earth the Egyptians made 
use of other kinds of dressing, and sought for different produc¬ 
tions the soils best suited to them. They even took advantage 
of the edge of the desert for growing the vine and some other 



362 


EMPLOYMENT. 


plants, which, being composed ot clay and sand, was peculiarly 
adapted to such as required a light soil, and the cultivation of 
this additional tract, which only stood in need of proper irriga¬ 
tion to become highly productive, had the advantage of increas¬ 
ing considerably the extent of the arable land of Egypt. In many 
places we still find evidence of its having been tilled by the 
ancient inhabitants, even to the late time of the Roman empire; 
and in some parts of the Fyoom the vestiges of beds and chan¬ 
nels for irrigation, as well as the roots of vines, are found in sites 
lying far above the level of the rest of the country. 

The occupation of the husbandman depended much on the 
produce he had determined on rearing. Those who solely culti¬ 
vated corn had little more to do than to await the time of har¬ 
vest, but many crops required constant attention, and some stood 
in need of frequent artificial irrigation. 





















pYEIJ'iq A^D 'pAIJNTINQ. 

The fame of an actor has been justly said to be of all fame 
the most perishable, because he leaves no memorial of his powers, 
except in the fading memories of the generation which has beheld 
him. An analogous proposition might be made with respect to 
the mechanical arts: of all sorts of knowledge they are the most 
perishable, because the knowledge of them can not be transmitted 
by mere description. Let any great convulsion of nature put an 
end to their practice for a generation or two, and though the 
scientific part of them may be preserved in books, the skill in 
manipulation, acquired by a long series of improvements, is lost. 
If the United States be destined to relapse into such a state of 
barbarism as Italy passed through in the period which divides 
ancient and modern history, its inhabitants a thousand years 
hence will know little more of the manual process of printing, 
dyeing, and the other arts which minister to our daily comfort, in 
spite of all the books which have been and shall be written, than 
we know of the manual processes of ancient Italy. We reckon, 
therefore, among the most interesting discoveries of Pompeii, 
those which relate to the manner of conducting handicrafts, of 
which it is not too much to say that we know nothing except 
through this medium. It is to be regretted, that as far as our 
information goes, there are but two trades on which any light has 
yet been thrown, those, namely, of the baker and the dyer. We 
shall devote this chapter to collecting what is known upon these 
subjects, and probably also speak some on painting. 


t 









EMPLOYMENT. 


3 6 4 

Several bakers’ shops have been found, all in a tolerable 
state of preservation. ' The mills, the oven, the kneading-troughs, 
the vessels for containing liour, water, leaven, have all been 
discovered, and seem to leave nothing wanting to our knowledge; 
in some of the vessels the very flour remained, still capable of 
being identified, though reduced almost to a cinder. But in the 
centre some lumps of whitish matter resembling chalk remained, 
which, when wetted and placed on a red-hot iron, gave out the 
peculiar color which flour thus treated emits. Even the very 
bread, in a perfect though carbonized form, has in some instances 
been found in the oven. One of these bakers’ shops was attached 
to the House of Sallust, another to the House of Pansa: probably 
they were worth a handsome rent. A third, which we select for 
description, for one will serve perfectly as a type for the whole, 
seems to have belonged to a man of higher class, a sort of 
capitalist; for, instead of renting a mere dependency of another 
man’s house, he lived in a tolerably good house of his own, of 
which the bakery forms a part. It stands next to the House of 
Sallust, on the south side, being divided from it only by a narrow 
street. Its front is in the main street or Via Consularis, leading 
from the gate of Herculaneum to the Forum. Entering by a 
small vestibule, the visitor finds himself in a tetrastyle atrium (a 
thing not common at Pompeii), of ample dimensions, considering 
the character of the house, being about thirty-six feet by thirty. 
The pillars which supported the ceiling are square and solid, and 
their size, combined with indications observed in a fragment of 
the entablature, led Mazois to suppose that, instead of a roof, 
they had been surmounted by a terrace. The impluvium is 
marble. At the end of the atrium is what would be called a 
tablinum in the house of a man of family, through which we 
enter the bake-house, which is at the back of the house, and opens 
into the smaller street, which, diverging from the main street at 
the fountain by Pansa’s house, runs up straight to the city walls. 


MILL AND BAKERY AT POMPEII. 365 













































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































366 


EMPLOYMENT. 


The atrium is surrounded by different apartments, offering abund¬ 
ant accommodation, but such as we need not stop to describe. 

The work-room is about thirty-three feet long by twenty-six. 
The centre is occupied by four stone mills, exactly like those 
found in the other two stores, for all the bakers ground their own 
flour. To give more room they are placed diagonally, so as to 
form, not a square, but a lozenge. Mazois was present at the 
excavation of this house, and saw the -mills at the moment of 
their discovery, when the iron-work, though entirely rust-eaten, 
was yet perfect enough to explain satisfactorily the method of 
construction. This will be best understood from the following 
representation, one half of which is an elevation, the other half a 
section. The cut on page 365 gives some idea of them. 

The base is a cylindrical stone, about flve feet in diameter 
and two feet high. Upon this, forming part of the same block, 
or else firmly fixed into it, is a conical projection about two feet 
high, the sides slightly curving inwards. Upon this there rests 
another block, externally resembling a dice-box, internally an 
hour-glass, being shaped into two hollow cones with their vertices 
towards each other, the lower one fitting the conical surface on 
which it rests, though not with any degree of accuracy. To 
diminish friction, however, a strong iron pivot was inserted in the 
top of the solid cone, and a corresponding socket let into the 
narrow part of the hour-glass. Four holes were cut through the 
stone parallel to this pivot. The narrow part was hooped on the 
outside with iron, into which wooden bars were inserted, by 
means of which the upper stone was turned upon its pivot, by the 
labor of men or asses. The upper hollow cone served as a 
hopper, and was filled with corn, which fell by degrees through 
the four holes upon the solid cone, and was reduced to powder 
by friction between the two rough surfaces. Of course it worked 
its way to the bottom by degrees, and fell out on the cylindrical 
base, round which a channel was cut to facilitate the collection. 


FLOUR MILLS. 


3 6 7 


These machines are about six feet high in the whole, made of a 
rough gray volcanic stone, full of large crystals of leucite. Thus 
rude, in a period of high refinement and luxury, was one of the 
commonest and most necessary machines—thus careless were the 
Romans of the amount of labor wasted in preparing an article of 
daily and universal consumption. This, probably, arose in chief 
from the employment of slaves, the hardness of whose task was 
little cared for; while the profit and encouragement to enterprise 
on the part of the professional baker was proportionately dimin¬ 
ished, since every family of wealth probably prepared its bread 
at home. But the same inattention to the useful arts runs 
through everything that they did. Their skill in working metals 
was equal to ours; nothing can be more beautiful than the execu¬ 
tion of tripods, lamps, and vases, nothing coarser than their locks; 
while at the same time the door-handles, bolts, etc., which were 
seen, are often exquisitely wrought. To what cause can this 
sluggishness be referred? At present we see that a material 
improvement in any article, though so trifling as a corkscrew or 
pencil-case, is pretty sure to make the fortune of some man, 
though unfortunately that man is very often not the inventor. 
Had the encouragement to industry been the same, the result 
would have been the same. Articles of luxury were in high 
request, and of them the supply was first-rate. But the demands 
of a luxurious nobility would never have repaid any man for 
devoting his attention to the improvement of mills or perfecting 
smith’s work, and there was little general commerce to set inge¬ 
nuity at work. Italy imported largely both agricultural produce 
and manufactures in the shape of tribute from a conquered 
world, and probably exported part of her peculiar productions; 
but we are not aware that there is any ground for supposing that 
she manufactured goods for exportation to any extent. 

Originally mills were turned by hand, (many establishments 
may still be seen in the streets of Naples for grinding corn by 



3 68 


EMPLOYMENTS 




means of a hand-mill, turned by a man. Such flour-shops have 
always a picture of the Madonna inside,) and this severe labor 
seems, in all half-savage times, to have been conducted by women. 
It was so in Egypt; it was so in Greece in the time of Homer, 
who employs fifty females in the house of Alcinous upon this 
service. It was so in Palestine in the time of the Evangelists, 
and in England in the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries. We 
find a passage of St. Matthew thus rendered by Wicliffe: “Two 
wymmen schulen (shall) be grinding in one querne,” or hand- 
mill; and Harrison the historian, two centuries later, says that 
his wife ground her malt at home upon her quern. Among the 
Romans poor freemen used sometimes to hire themselves out to 
the service of the mill when all other resources failed; and 
Plautus is said to have done so, being reduced to the extreme of 
poverty, and to have composed his comedies while thus employed. 
This labor, however, fell chiefly upon slaves, and is represented 
as being the severest drudgery which they had to undergo. 
Those who had been guilty of any offense were sent to the mill 
as a punishment, and sometimes forced to work in chains. 
Asses, however, were used by those who could afford it. 
That useful animal seems to have been employed in the 
establishment we are describing, for the fragment of a jaw-bone, 
with several teeth in it, was found in a room which seems to 
have been the stable; and the floor about the mill is paved with 
rough pieces of stone, while in the rest of the rooms it is made 
of stucco or compost. The use of water-mills, however, was not 
unknown to the Romans. Vitruvius describes their construction 
in terms not inapplicable to the mechanism of a common mill of 
the present day, and other ancient authors refer to them. “Set 
not your hands to the mill, O women that turn the millstone! 
sleep sound though the cock’s crow announce the dawn, for 
Ceres has charged the nymphs with the labors which employed 
your arms. These, dashing from the summit of a wheel, make 


BREAD-BAKING. 


3 6 9 


its axle revolve, which, by the help of moving radii, sets in 
action the weight of four hollow mills. We taste anew the life 
ot the first men, since we have learnt to enjoy, without fatigue, 
the produce of Ceres.” 

In the centre of the pier, at the back, is the aperture to the 
cistern by which the water used in making bread was supplied. 
On each side are vessels to hold the water. On the pier above 
is a painting, divided horizontally into two compartments. The 
figures in the upper ones are said to represent the worship of the 
goddess Fornax, the goddess of the oven, which seems to have 
been deified solely for the advantages which it possessed over the 
old method of baking on the hearth. Below, two guardian ser¬ 
pents roll towards an altar crowned with a fruit very much like 
a pine-apple; while above, two little birds are in chase of large 
flies. These birds, thus placed in a symbolical picture, may be 
considered, in perfect accordance with the spirit of ancient mythol¬ 
ogy, as emblems of the genii of the place, employed in driving 
those troublesome insects from the bread. 

The oven is on the left. It is made with considerable atten¬ 
tion to economy of heat. The real oven is enclosed in a sort of 
ante-oven, which had an aperture in the top for the smoke to 
escape. The hole in the side is for the introduction of dough, 
which was prepared in the adjoining room, and deposited 
through that hole upon the shovel with which the man in front 
placed it in the oven. The bread, when baked, was conveyed to 
cool in a room the other side of the oven, by a similar aperture. 
Beneath the oven is an ash-pit. To the right is a large room 
which is conjectured to have been a stable. The jaw-bone above 
mentioned and some other fragments of a skeleton were found in 
it. There is a reservoir for water at the further end, which 
passes through the wall, and is common both to this room and 
the next, so that it could be filled without going into the stable. 
The further room is fitted up with stone basins, which seem to 


2 4 


37 ° 


EMPLOYMENT. 



have been the kneading-troughs. It contains also a narrow and 
inconvenient staircase. 

Though corn-bread formed the principal article of nourish¬ 
ment among the Italians, the use of bread itself was not ol early 
date. For a long time the Romans used their corn sodden into 
pap, and there were no bakers in Rome antecedent to the war 
against Perseus, king of Macedonia, about B. C. 5 &°* Before 
this every house made its own bread, and this was the task of 
the women, except in great houses, where there were men-cooks. 
And even after the invention of bread it was long before the use 
of mills was known, but the grain was bruised in mortars. 
Hence the names pistor and pistrinum , a baker and baker ’s shop, 
which are derived from pinsere , to pound. The oven also was 
of late introduction, as we have hinted in speaking of the goddess 
Fornax, nor did it ever come into exclusive use. We hear of 
bread baked under the ashes; baked in the bread-pan, which was 
probably of the nature of a Dutch oven; and other sorts, named 
either from the nature of their preparation or the purpose to 
which they were to be applied. The finest sort was called 
siligineus , and was prepared from the best and whitest sort of 
wheaten flour. A bushel of the best wheat of Campania, which 
was of the first quality, containing sixteen sextarii, yielded 
four sextarii of siligo, here seemingly used for the finest flour; 
half a bushel of jlos, bolted flour; four sextarii of cibarium , 
seconds; and four sextarii of bran; thus giving an excess of four 
sextarii. Their loaves appear to have been very often baked in 
moulds, several of which have been found; these may possibly be 
artoptae, and the loaves thus baked, artopticii. Several of these 
loaves have been found entire. They are flat, and about eight 
inches in diameter. One in the Neapolitan Museum has a stamp 
on the top:— 

SILIGO . CRANII 


E . CICER 



DYEING. 


3 7 1 


This has been interpreted to mean that cicer (vetch) was mixed 
with the flour. We know from Pliny that the Romans used 
several sorts of grain. The cut below gives an idea of their form. 

In front ot the house, one on each side the doorway, there 
are two shops. Neither ol these has any communication with 
the house; it is 
inferred, there¬ 
fore, that they 
were let out to 
others, like the 
shops belonging 
to more distin¬ 
guished persons. 

This supposition 
is the more prob- 

. . . BREAD DISCOVERED IN POMPEII. 

able because none 

of the bakeries found have shops attached to them, and there is 
a painting in the grand work on Herculaneum, Le Pitture d’Er- 
colano, which represents a bread-seller established in the Forum, 
with his goods on a little table in the open air. 

There is only one trade, # so far as we are aware, with 
respect to the practices of which any knowledge has been 
gained from the excavations at Pompeii—that of fulling and 
scouring cloth. This art, owing to the difference of ancient and 
modern habits, was of much greater importance formerly than 
it now is. Wool was almost the only material used for dresses 
in the earlier times of Rome, silk being unknown till a late 
period, and linen garments being very little used. Woolen 
dresses, however, especially in the hot climate of Italy, must 
often have required a thorough purification, and on the manner in 
which this was done of course their beauty very much depended. 
And since the toga, the chief article of Roman costume, was 
woven in one piece, and was of course expensive, to make it look 





































37 2 


EMPLOYMENT. 


and wear as well as possible was very necessary to persons of 
small fortune. The method pursued has been described by 
Pliny and others, and is well illustrated in some paintings found 
upon the wall of a building, which evidently was a fullonica , or 
scouring-house. The building in question is entered from the 
Street of Mercury, and is situated in the same island as the 
House of the Tragic Poet. 

The first operation was that of washing, which was done 
with water mixed with some detergent clay, or fuller’s earth; 
soap does not appear to have been used. This was done in vats, 
where the clothes were trodden and well worked by the feet of 
the scourer. The painting on the walls of the Fullonica repre¬ 
sents four persons thus employed. Their dress is tucked up, 
leaving their legs bare; it consists of two tunics, the under one 
being yellow and the upper green. Three of them seem to have 
done their work, and to be wringing the articles on which they 
have been employed; the other, his hands resting on the wall on 
each side, is jumping, and busily working about the contents 
of his vat. When dry, the cloth was brushed. and carded, to 
raise the nap—at first with metal cards, afterwards with thistles. 
A plant called teazle is now largely cultivated in England for 
the same purpose. The cloth was then fumigated with sulphur, 
and bleached in the sun by throwing water repeatedly upon it 
while spread out on gratings. In the painting the workman is 
represented as brushing or carding a tunic suspended over a 
rope. Another man carries a frame and pot, meant probably for 
fumigation and bleaching; the pot containing live coals and sul¬ 
phur, and being placed under the frame, so that the cloths spread 
upon the latter would be fully exposed to the action of the pent- 
up vapor. The person who carries these things wears something 
on his head, which is said to be an olive garland. If so, that, 
and the owl sitting upon the frame, probably indicate that the 
establishment was under the patronage of Minerva, the tutelary 



SCOURING AND DYEING. 


373 


goddess of the loom. Another is a female examining- the work 
which a young girl has done upon a piece of yellow cloth. A 
golden net upon her head, and a necklace and bracelets, denote 
a person of higher rank than one of the mere workpeople of the 
establishment; it probably is either the mistress herself, or a 
customer inquiring into the quality of the work which has been 
done for her. 

These pictures, with others illustrative of the various pro¬ 
cesses of the art, were found upon a pier in the peristyle of the 
Fullonica. Among them we may mention one that represents a 
press, similar in construction to those now in use, except that 
there is an unusual distance between the threads of the screw. 
The ancients, therefore, were acquainted with the practical ap¬ 
plication of this mechanical power. In another is to be seen a 
youth delivering some pieces of cloth to a female, to whom, per¬ 
haps, the task of ticketing, and preserving distinct the different 
property of different persons, was allotted. It is rather a curi¬ 
ous proof of the importance attached to this trade, that the due 
regulation of it was a subject thought not unworthy of legisla¬ 
tive enactments. B. C. 354, the censors laid down rules for 
regulating the manner of washing dresses, and we learn from the 
digests of the Roman law that scourers were compelled to use 
the greatest care not to lose or to confound property. Another 
female, seated on a stool, seems occupied in cleaning one of the 
cards. Both of the figures last described wear green tunics; the 
first of them has a yellow under-tunic, the latter a white one. 
The resemblance in colors between these dresses and those ol 
the male fullers above described may perhaps warrant a conject¬ 
ure that there was some kind of livery or described dress belong¬ 
ing to the establishment, or else the contents of the painter's 
color-box must have been very limited. 

The whole pier on which these paintings were found has 
been removed to the museum at Naples. In the peristyle was a 


374 


EMPLOYMENT. 


large earthenware jar, which had been broken across the middle 
and the pieces then sewed carefully and laboriously together 
with wire. The value of these vessels, therefore, can not have 
been very small, though they were made ot the most common 
clay. At the eastern end of the peristyle there was a pretty 
fountain, with a jet d’eau. The western end is occupied by four 
large vats in masonry, lined with stucco, about seven feet deep, 
which seem to have received the water in succession, one from 
another. 

Dyeing and painting in ancient times was rather more perfect 
than at present, at least the colors were stronger and more dur¬ 
able. The Egyptians had the most durable colors. The Henna 
is a plant which is abundant in Egypt, Arabia, and Palestine, 
and was used by the ancients, as it is by the moderns, for dyeing. 
The leaves were dried and pulverized, and then made into a 
paste. It is a powerful astringent dye, and is applied to desiccate 
and dye the palms of the hands and soles of the feet and nails of 
both, and gives a sort of dun or rust color to animal tissues, which 
is very permanent. 

It is stated that when sal-ammoniac and lime were put upon 
the colored parts they changed to a dark greenish-blue color, and 
passed on to black, probably' from the sal-ammoniac containing 
iron which would give this result. 

The Tyrian ladies dyed rings and stars upon their persons. 
Men gave a black dye to the hair of their heads and beards. The 
dyeing of the nails with henna is a very ancient custom. Some 
of the old Egyptian mummies are so dyed. It is supposed that 
the Jewish women also followed this custom. Reference is made 
to it in Deuteronomy, where the newly-married wife is desired to 
stain her nails. Also, in the Song of Solomon, Camphire, in the 
authorized version, is said to mean henna, which has finely-scented 
flowers growing in bunches, and the leaves of the plant are used 
by women to impart a reddish stain to their nails. 


COLORING SUBSTANCES. 


375 


Speaking of the Arabian women at the present day, Dr. 
Thomson, in u The Land and the Book,” says: u They paint their 
cheeks, putting tahl around their eyes, arching their eyebrows 
with the same, and stain their hands and feet with henna thus to 
deck themselves, and should an unmarried woman do so, an im¬ 
pression is conveyed highly injurious to the girl’s character.” 

Galls are named among the substances known to the 
ancients, but we can not find whether they were used as a dyeing 
agent. Wilkinson says that tanning was in Egypt a subdivision 
of dyeing, and it is mentioned that copperas with galls dyed 
leather black; and there can be little doubt that galls were used 
for a similar purpose in ordinary dyeing. The Myrobollans and 
several sorts of barks and pods of the Acacia nilotica were also 
used for tanning, from their astringent properties, and may have 
been similarly used for dyeing. 

These are a few of the principal coloring matters used by 
dyers in ancient times. There is a little confusion with respect 
to some of the salts mentioned as having been used by them, es¬ 
pecially the alkaline salts—a circumstance, however, not to be 
wondered at. In more modern times there is a similar confusion 
on this same head. 

When nitre, for instance, is burned with carbonaceous mat¬ 
ter, the product is carbonate of potash. The ashes left by burn¬ 
ing; wood contain the same salt. The ashes left by burning 
sea-weed produce carbonate of soda. "W hen nitre is burned with 
sulphur, the product is sulphate of potash, etc. these have all 
been called generically, even in modern times, nitre, having each 
a certain prefix well understood by the adept, or chemist, of the 
day. 

We think it probable that all these processes for making the 
different salts were practiced in ancient times, but now having 
only the generic name nitre given us by historians, we can not 
understand exactly when nitre is mentioned which of the nitres is 
meant. 



37 6 EMPLOYMENT. 

When Solomon speaks of the action of vinegar upon nitre*, 
the chemist understands that the salt referred to is a carbonate, 
but when the nature of the action or application is not given, we 
have no idea what particular salt is meant. There is no doubt, 
however, that the ancients were well acquainted with the alkaline 
salts of potash and soda, and applied them in the arts. The 
metallic salts of iron, copper, and alumina were well known, and 
their application to dyeing was generally the same as at the pres¬ 
ent day. That they were used both as mordants and alterants 
is evident from several references. 

A very suggestive statement is made by Pliny about the 

. • 

ancient Egyptians. “They began, says he, “by painting or 
drawing on white cloths with certain drugs, which in themselves 
possessed no color, but had the property of attracting or absorb¬ 
ing coloring matter, after which these cloths were immersed in a - 
heated dyeing liquor; and although they were colorless before, 
and although this dyeing liquor was of one equable and uniform 
color, yet when taken out of it soon afterwards, the cloth was 
found to be wonderfully tinged of different colors, according to 
the peculiar nature of the several drugs which had been applied 
to their respective parts, and these colors could not be afterwards 
discharged by washing.’ 1 

Herodotus states that certain people who lived near the Cas¬ 
pian Sea could, by means of leaves of trees which they bruised 
and steeped in water, form on cloth the figures of animals, flow¬ 
ers, etc., which were as lasting as the cloth itself. This state¬ 
ment is more suggestive than instructive. 

Persia was much famed for dyeing at a very early period, 
and dyeing is still held in great esteem in that country. Persian 
dyers have chosen Christ as their patron; and Bischoff says that 
they at present call a dye-house Christ’s workshop, from a tradi¬ 
tion they have that He was of that profession. They have a 
legend, probably founded upon what Pliny tells of the .Egyptian 


MINERAL USED FOR DYEING. 


377 


dyers, “that Christ being put apprentice to a dyer, His master 
desired Him to dye some pieces of cloth of different colors; He 
put them all into a boiler, and when the dyer took them out he 
was terribly frightened on finding that each had its proper color.” 

This or a similar legend occurs in the apocryphal book en¬ 
titled “ The First Gospel of the Infancy of Jesus Christ.” The 
following is the passage : 

“On a certain day also, when the Lord Jesus was playing with the boys, and run¬ 
ning about, He passed by a dyer’s shop whose name was Salem, and there were in his 
shop many pieces of cloth belonging to the people of that city, which they designed to 
dye of several colors. Then the Lord Jesus, going into the dyer’s shop, took all the 
cloths and threw them into the furnace. When Salem came home and saw the cloth 
spoiled, he began to make a great noise and to chide the Lord Jesus, saying: “What 
hast Thou done unto me, O thou son of Mary? Thou hast injured both me and my 
neighbors; they all desired their cloths of a proper color, but Thou hast come and 
spoiled them all.” The Lord Jesus replied: “ I will change the color of every cloth 
to what color thou desirest,”and then He presently began to take the cloths out of the fur¬ 
nace ; and they were all dyed of those same colors which the dyer desired. And when 
the Jews saw this surprising miracle they praised God.” 

Tin. —We have no positive evidence as to whether the 
ancients used oxide, or the salts of tin, in their dyeing operations. 
A modern dyer could hardly produce permanent tints with 
some of the dye drugs named without tin salts. We know that 
the ancients used the oxides of tin for glazing pottery and paint¬ 
ing; they may therefore have used salts of tin in their dyeing 
operations. However, they had another salt—sulphate of alum¬ 
ina_which produces similar results, although the moderns in 

most cases prefer tin, as it makes a more brilliant and permanent 

tint. 

Alum. _This is what is termed a double salt, and is com¬ 

posed of sulphate of alumina and sulphate of potash. The 
process of manufacturing it in this country is by subjecting clay 
slate containing iron pyrites to a calcination, when the sulphur 
with the iron is oxidized, becoming sulphuric acid, which, com- 
binino* with the alumina of the clay, and also with the iron, 
becomes sulphate of alumina and iron; to this is added a salt oi 




3 7 8 


EMPLOYMENT. 


potash, which, combining with the sulphate of alumina, forms the 
double salt alum. Soda or ammonia may be substituted for 
potash with similar results; the alum is crystallized from the 
solution. That the ancients were acquainted with this double 
salt has been disputed, but we think there can be no doubt of its 
existence and use at a very early period. A very pure alum is 
produced in volcanic districts by the action of sulphurous acid 
and oxygen on felspathic rocks, and used by the ancients for 
different purposes. Pliny mentions Alumine , which he describes 
as white, and used for whitening wool, also for dyeing wool of 
bright colors. Occasionally he confounds this salt with a mixture 
of sulphate of alumina and iron, which, in all probability, was 
alum containing iron, the process of separation not being perfect; 
and he mentions that this kind of alumen blackens on the appli¬ 
cation of nut-galls, showing that iron was in it. Pliny says of 
alumen, that it is u understood to be a sort of brine which exudes 
from the earth; of this, too, there are several kinds. In Cyprus 
there is a white alumen, and another kind of a darker color; the 
uses of these are very dissimilar, the white liquid alumen being 
employed for dyeing a whole bright color, and the darker, on the 
other hand, for giving wool a tawny or sombre tint.” This is 
very characteristic of a pure aluminous mordant, and of one 
containing iron. He also mentions that this dark alumen was 
used for purifying gold. Pie must be referring here to its 
quality of giving gold a rich color. The liquid of this iron 
alumen, if put upon light-colored gold, and heated over a fire, 
gives it a very rich tint; a process practiced still for the same 
purpose. So far, however, as the application to dyeing is con¬ 
cerned, it is unnecessary to prove that the ancients used our 
double salt alum. Probably the alumen referred to by Pliny, as 
exuding from the earth, was sulphate of alumina, without potash 
or soda, a salt not easily crystallized, but as effective, in many 
cases more effective, in the operations of dyeing, as alum, which 


COST OF DYEING. 


379 


is attested by the preference given to this salt over alum for 
many purposes at the present day. Pliny says that alumen was 
a product of Spain, Egypt, Armenia, Macedonia, Pontus, Africa, 
and the Islands of Sardinia, Melos, Lipara, and Strangyle, and 
that the most esteemed is that of Egypt. And Herodotus men¬ 
tions that King Amasis of Egypt sent the people of Delphi a 
thousand talents of this substance, as his contribution toward the 
rebuilding of their temple. Notwithstanding considerable con¬ 
fusion in Pliny’s account of this substance, our belief is, that it 
refers to different salts of alumina, and whether or not they were 
all used in the processes of dyeing, they were used for manufac¬ 
turing purposes, and thus gives us some insight to the advanced 
state of the arts in those times. 

Respecting the cost and durability ot the Tyrian purple, it 
is related that Alexander the Great found in the treasury of the 
Persian monarch 5,000 quintals of Hermione purple of great 

beauty, and 180 years old, and that it was worth $125 of our 

/ 

money per pound weight. The price of dyeing a pound of wool 
in the time of Augustus is given by Pliny, and this price is equal 
to about $160 of our money. It is probable that his remarks 
refer to some particular tint or quality of color easily distin¬ 
guished, although not at all clearly defined by Pliny. He men¬ 
tions a sort of purple, or hyacinth, which was worth, in the time 
of Julius Caesar, 100 denarii (about $15 of our money) per 
pound. 

Since, according to our modern researches into this dye, one 
fish, the common Purpura lapillus , produces only about one 
drop of the liquor, then it would take about 10,000 fish to dye 1 
lb. of wool, so that $160 is not extravagant. 

Spinning and weaving in ancient times were principally per¬ 
formed by women; indeed, the words woof weaving, and web 
are allied to the word wife . However, in ancient Egypt and in 
India men also wrought at the loom. Probably nothing could 


3 8o 


EMPLOYMENT. 


be simpler or ruder than the looms used by ancient weavers. 
Were we to compare these with the looms and other weaving 1 
apparatus of the present day, and reason therefrom that as the 
loom so must have been the cloth produced thereon, we would 
make a very great mistake. There are few arts which illus¬ 
trate with equal force our argument in favor of the perfection 
of ancient art so well as this of weaving. It would appear that 
our advancement is not so much in the direction of quality as 
in that of quantity. There are few things we can do which 
were not done by the ancients equally perfect. Rude as were 
their looms in ancient Egypt, they produced the far-famed linen 

so often mentioned in Scripture and the writings of other nations. 

* t 

In order to show that this is not to be regarded as a merely 
comparative term applicable to a former age, we will here quote 
from G. Wilkinson respecting some mummy-cloths examined by 
the late Mr. Thomson, of Clithero :— u My first impression on 
seeing these cloths was, that the first kinds were muslins, and of 
Indian manufacture; but this suspicion of their being cotton was 
soon removed by the microscope. Some were thin and trans¬ 
parent, and of delicate texture, and the finest had 140 threads 
to the inch in the warp.” Some cloth Mr. Wilkinson found in 
Thebes had 152 threads to the inch in the warp, but this is 
coarse when compared with a piece of linen cloth found in Mem¬ 
phis, which had 540 threads to the inch of the warp. How fine 
must these threads have been! In quoting this extract from 
Wilkinson to an old weaver, he flatly said it was impossible, as 
no reed could be made so fine. However, there would be more 
threads than one in the split, and by adopting this we can make 
cloth in our day having between 400 and 500 in the inch. How¬ 
ever, the ancient cloths are much finer in the warp than woof, 
probably from want of appliance for driving the threads of the 
weft close enough, as they do not appear to have lays as we 
have for this purpose. Pliny refers to the remains of a linen 



CLOTH MANUFACTURE. 


3 Sl 

corselet, presented by Amasis, king of Egypt, to the Rhodians, 
each thread of which was composed of 365 fibres: “Herodotus 
mentions this corselet, and another presented by Amasis to the 
Lacedaemonians, which had been carried off by the Samians. 
It was of linen, ornamented with numerous figures of animals 
worked in gold and cotton. Each thread of the corselet was 
worthy of admiration, for though very fine, every one was com¬ 
posed of 360 other threads all distinct.” No doubt this kind of 
thread was symbolical. It was probably something of this sort 
that Moses refers to when he mentions the material of which the 
corselet or girdle of the high priest was made—the fine twined 
linen. Jewish women are represented in the Old Testament as 
being expert in the art of spinning. 

Ancient Babylon was also celebrated for her cloth manufac¬ 
ture and embroidery work, and to be the possessor of one of 
these costly garments was no ordinary ambition. It is not to be 
wondered at that when Achan saw amongst the spoils of Jericho 
a goodly Babylonish garment he u coveted it and took it.” The 
figure represented on the ancient seal of Urukh has, says Raw- 
linson, fringed garments delicately striped, indicating an ad¬ 
vanced condition of this kind of manufacture five or six centuries 
before Joshua. It may be mentioned, however, that such manu¬ 
factures were in ancient times, especially in Egypt, national. 
Time was of little importance, labor was plentiful, and no crafts¬ 
man was allowed to scheme, or plan, or introduce any change, 
but was expected to aim at the perfection of the operation he 
was engaged in, and this led to perfection every branch. Every 
trade had its own quarters in the city or nation, and the locality 
was named after the trade, such as goldsmiths’ quarters, weavers’ 
quarters, etc. This same rule seems to have been practised by 
the Hebrews after their settlement in Palestine, for we find such 
names in Scripture as the Valley of Craftsmen. We also find 
that certain trades continued in families; passages such as the 



382 EMPLOYMENT. 

following are frequent — u The father of those who were crafts* 
men,” and “ The father of Mereshah, a city, and of the house of 
those who wrought fine linenand again, u The men of Cho- 
zeba, and Joash, and Saraph, who had the dominion of Moab 
and Jashubalahem, these were potters, and those that dwelt 
among plants and hedges, and did the king’s work.” In ancient 
Egypt every son was obliged to follow the same trade as his 
father. Thus caste was formed. Whether this same was 
carried out in Babylon, Persia, and Greece, we do not know; 
but certainly, in these nations there were in all cases officers 
directing the operations, and overseers, to whom these again 
were responsible, so that every manufacturing art was carried 
on under strict surveillance, and to the highest state of perfec¬ 
tion. As the possession of artistic work was an object of ambi¬ 
tion amongst the wealthy or favored portion of the community, 
it led to emulation among the workers. Professor Rawlinson, in 
his “ Five Ancient Monarchies,” speaks of the Persians emulat¬ 
ing with each other in the show they could make of their riches 
and variety of artistic products. This emulation led both to 
private and public exhibitions. One of those exhibitions, which 
lasted over a period of six months, is referred to in the Old 
Testament; so when we opened our Great Exhibition in 1876 
we were only resuscitating a system common in ancient times, 
the event recorded in the Book of Esther having happened at 
least 2,200 years before: 

“ In those days, when the King Ahasuerus sat on the throne of his kingdom, 
which was in Shushan the palace, in the third year of his reign, he made a feast nnto 
all his princes and his servants; the power of Persia and Media, the nobles and princes 
of the provinces, being before him: when he showed the riches of his glorious kingdom, 
and the honor of his excellent majesty, many days, even an hundred and fourscore days, 
And when these days were expired, the king made a feast unto all the people that were 
present in Shushan the palace, both unto great and unto small, seven days, in the court 
of the garden of the king’s palace; where were white, green and blue hangings, fastened 
with cords of fine linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble; the beds were 
of gold and silver, upon a pavement of red, and blue, and white, and black marble. 
And they gave them drink in vessels of gold (the vessels being diverse one from 
another), and royal wine in abundance, according to the shite of the king.” 



PERSIAN COSTUMES. 


3 8 3 


This must have been a magnificent exhibition. The number 
attending this feast is not ascertainable; but, if the princes and 
nobles of the provinces (the provinces were 127 in number), and 
all the officers and great men of Persia and Media, and the 
servants of the palace, great and small, were there, it must have 
formed an immense company. Now, as every one drank out of 
a golden cup of a different pattern, we obtain an idea of profusion 
in art of which we can form but a very limited conception. This 
fact indicates that variety of pattern was an object sought after 
—a fashion fostering and favoring the development of art and 
design, and worthy of being emulated in the present day. 

Speaking of the Persians, Professor Rawlinson says that the 
richer classes seem to have followed the court in their practices. 
In their costume they wore long purple or flowered robes, with 
loose-hanging sleeves, flowered tunics reaching to the knee, also 
sleeved, embroidered trowsers, tiaras, and shoes of a more elegant 
shape than the ordinary Persian. Under their trowsers they 
wore drawers, and under their tunics shirts, and under their shoes 
stockings or socks. In their houses their couches were spread 
with gorgeous coverlets, and their floors with rich carpets— 
habits that must have necessitated an immense labor and skill, 
and indicate great knowledge in the manufacture of textile 
fabrics. 

Among the great historic nations of antiquity, the chief 
consumption of copper and tin was in the manufacture of bronze; 
and the quantities of these metals necessary for the purpose must 
have been very great, for bronze seems to have been the principal 
metallic substance of which articles both ol utility and art were 
formed. Wilkinson, Layard, and others, found bronze articles 
in abundance amongst the debris ol all the ancient civilizations to 
which their researches extend, proving that the manufacture ol 
this alloy was widely known at a very early period; and strange 
to say, when we consider the applications of some of the tools 



3 S 4 


EMPLOYMENT. 


found, we are forced to the conclusion that the bronze of which 
they were made must originally have been in certain important 
particulars superior to any which we can produce at the present 
day. In these researches were found carpenters’ and masons’ 
tools, such as saws, chisels, hammers, etc., and also knives, dag¬ 
gers, swords, and other instruments which require both a fine 
hard edge a-nd elasticity. Were we to make such tools now, they 
would be useless for the purpose to which the ancients applied 
them. Wilkinson says: “No one who has tried to perforate or 
cut a block of Egyptian granite will scruple to acknowledge that 
our best steel tools, are turned in a very short time, and require 
to be re-tempered; and the labor experienced by the French 
engineers who removed the obelisk of Luxor from Thebes, in 
cutting a space less than two feet deep along the face of its par¬ 
tially decomposed pedestal, suffices to show that, even with our 
excellent modern implements, we find considerable difficulty in 
doing what to the Egyptians would have been one of the least 
arduous tasks.” 

But Wilkinson believes that bronze chisels were used for 
cutting granite, as he found one at Thebes, of which he says, “Its 
point is instantly turned by striking it against the very stone it 
was used to cut; and yet, when found, the summit was turned 
over by blows it had received from the mallet, while the point 
was intact, as if it had recently left the hands of the smith who 
made it.” 

“Another remarkable feature in their bronze,” says the same 
author, “ is the resistance it offers to the effects of the atmos¬ 
phere—some continuing smooth and bright though buried for 
ages, and since exposed to the damp European climate. They 
had also the secret of covering the surface with a rich patina of 
dark or light green, or other color, by applying acids to it.” 




No words can describe the interest which belongs to such a 
contribution to the history of the world as the discovery of Troy 
by Dr. Schliemann. The belief of a large part of the classic 
world for centuries has been embodied in a saying quite common 
among the Greeks: u I know of but one Ilion, and that is the 
Ilion as sung by Homer, which is not to be found except among 
the muses who dwell on Olympus.’'’ To-day is given to the 
world a description of the fire-scathed ruins of that city whose 
fate inspired the immortal first-fruits of Greek poetry, and from 
these remains are brought to light thousands of facts bearing 
upon the origin and history of the inhabitants, and illustrating 
their religion and language, their wealth and civilization. He 
has supplied the missing link, long testified by tradition as well 
as poetry, between the famous Greeks and their kindred in the 
East. 

The satisfaction which the discovery of Troy gives to the 
Greeks especially is, perhaps, nearly commensurate with the joy 
that a discovery would bring to the Christian which would so 
confirm the truth of the Bible as to forever silence its critics and 
the skepticism of the day. The Iliad was the Greek Bible, and 
every page of it was full of accounts ot Troy, its people and its 











3 86 


TROY. 


heroes. It was the ultimate standard of appeal on all matters 
of religious doctrine and early history. It was learned by the 
boys at school. It was the study of men in their riper years* 
and even in the time of Socrates there were Athenian gentle¬ 
men who could repeat both the Iliad and Odyssey by heart. In 
whatever part of the ancient world a Greek settled he carried 
with him a love for the great poet, just as much as the Christian 
family takes the Bible to its new frontier home. No work of 
profane literature has exercised so wide and long-continued an 
influence. 

The site of Troy is upon a plateau on the eastern shore of 
the TEgean Sea, about 4 miles from the coast and \]/ 2 miles, 
southeast from the port of Sigeum. The plateau lies on an 
average about 80 feet above the plain, and descending very ab¬ 
ruptly on the north side. Its northwestern corner is formed 
by a hill about 26 feet higher still, which is about 705 feet in 
breadth and 984 in length, and from its imposing situation and 
natural fortifications this hill of Hissarlih seems specially suited 
to be the Acropolis of the town. 

Like the other great Oriental capitals of the Old World, the 
present condition of Troy is that of a mound, such as those in 
the plain of the Tigris and Euphrates, offering for ages the invi¬ 
tation to research, which has only been accepted and rewarded 
in our own day. The resemblance is so striking as to raise a 
strong presumption that, as the mounds of Nimrud and Hillah 
have been found to contain the palaces of the Assyrian and Baby¬ 
lonian kings, so we may accept the ruins found in the mound of 
Hissarlik as those of the capital of that primeval empire in Asia 
Minor. 

As the mounds opened by Layard and his fellow laborers 
contained only the u royal quarters, 11 which towered above the 
rude buildings of cities, the magnitude of which is attested by 
abundant proofs, so it is reasonable to believe that the ruins at 


RUINS AT HISSARLIK. 


387 


Hissarlik are those of the royal quarter, the only really perma¬ 
nent part of the city built on the hill capping the lower plateau 
which lifted the huts of the common people above the marshes 
and inundations of the Scamander and the Simois. In both 
cases the fragile dwellings of the multitude have perished, and 
the pottery and other remains, which were left in the surface of 
the plateau of Ilium, would naturally be cleared away by the 
succeeding settlers. Homer’s poetical exaggeration exalted the 
mean dwellings that clustered about the acropolis into the u well- 
built city ” with her u wide streets.’* 

The erroneous theory which assigns Troy to the heights of 
Bunarbashi could, in fact, never have gained ground, had its 
advocates employed the few hours which they spent on the 
heights, and in Bunarbashi itself, in making small holes, with the 
aid of even a single workman. No one can conceive how it is 
possible that the solution of the great problem, u ubi Troja fuit” 
—which is surely one of‘the greatest interest to the whole civil¬ 
ized world—should have been treated so superficially that, after 
a few hours’ visit to the Plain of Troy, men have sat down at 
home and written voluminous works to defend a theory, the 
worthlessness of which they would have perceived had they but 
made excavations for a single hour. 

The view from the hill of Hissarlik is extremely magnifi¬ 
cent. Before it lies the glorious Plain of Troy, which is covered 
with grass and yellow buttercups; on the north northwest, at 
about an hour’s distance, it is bounded by the Hellespont. The 
peninsula of Gallipoli here runs out to a point, upon which stands 
a lighthouse. To the left of it is the island of Imbros, above 
which rises Mount Ida of the island of Samothrace, at present 
covered with snow; a little more to the west, on the Macedo¬ 
nian peninsula, lies the celebrated Mount Athos, or Monte Santo, 
with its monasteries, at the northwestern side of which there are 
still to be seen traces of that great canal, which, according to 



3 88 


TROY. 


Herodotus (vii. 22, 23), was made by Xerxes, in order to avoid 
sailing round the stormy Cape Athos. 

Returning to the Plain of Troy we see to the right of it, 
upon a spur of the promontory of Rhoeteum, the sepulchral 
mound of Ajax, at the foot of the opposite Cape of Sigeum that 
of Patroclus, and upon a spur of the same cape the sepulchre of 
Achilles; to the left of the latter, on the promontory itself, is the 
Village of Yenishehr. The Plain, which is about two hours’ 
journey in breadth, is thence bounded on the west by the shores 
of the TEgean, which are, on an average, about 131 feet high, 
and upon which we see first the sepulchral mound of Festus, the 
confidential friend of Caracalla, whom the Emperor (according 
to Herodian IV.) caused to be poisoned on his visit to Ilium, 
that he might be able to imitate the funeral rites which Achilles 
celebrated in honor of his friend Patroclus, as described by 
Homer. Then upon the same coast there is another sepulchral 
mound, called Udjeh-Tepe , rather more than 783^ feet in height, 
which most archaeologists consider to be that of the old man 
TEsyetes, from which Polites, trusting to the swiftness of his feet, 
watched to see when the Greek army would set forth from the 
ships. 

“Swift Iris stood amidst them, and the voice 
Assuming of Polites, Priam’s son, 

The Trojan scout, who, trusting to his speed, 

Was posted on the summit of the mound 

Of ancient iEsyetes, there to watch 

Till from their ships the Grecian troops should march—” 

Between the last-named mounds we see projecting above the 
high shores of the EEgean Sea the island of Tenedos, to which 
the crafty Greeks withdrew their fleet when they pretended to 
abandon the siege. To the south we see the Plain of Troy, 
extending again to a distance of two hours, as far as the heights 
of Bunarbashi, above which rises majestically the snow-capped 
Gargarus of Mt. Ida, from which Jupiter witnessed the battles 
between the Trojans and the Greeks. 


SETTLEMENT OF TROY. 


3 8 9 


One of the greatest difficulties has been to make the enor¬ 
mous accumulation of debris at Troy agree with chronology; and 
in this Dr. Schliemann only partially succeeded. According to 
Herodotus (vii. 43): u Xerxes in his march through the Troad, 
before invading Greece (B. C. 480) arrived at the Scamander and 
went up to Priam’s Pergamus, as he wished to see that citadel; 
and, after having seen it, and inquired into its past fortunes, he 
sacrificed 1,000 oxen to the Ilian Athena, and the Magi poured 
libations to the manes of the heroes.” 

This passage tacitly implies that at that time a Greek colony 
had long since held possession of the town, and according to 
Strabo’s testimony (XIII. i. 42), such a colony built Ilium during 
the dominion of the Lydians. Now, as the commencement ot 
the Lydian dominion dates from the year 797 B. C., and as the 
Ilians seem to have been completely established there long before 
the arrival of Xerxes in 480 B. C., we may fairly assume that 



their first settlement in Troy took place about 700 B. C. Now, 
there are found no inscriptions later than those belonging to the 
second century after Christ, and no coins ol later date than Con¬ 
stantine II., but very many belonging to Constantine the Great, 
who, as is well known, intended to build Constantinople on that 
site, but it remained an uninhabited place till about the end of the 
reisrn of Constans II., that is till about A. D. 361. Since the ac- 
cumulation of debris during this long period of 1061 years 
amounts only to six and one-half feet, whereas we have still to 
dig to a depth of forty feet, and in places to forty-six and one- 



































































39 ° 


TROY. 


half below this, before reaching the native soil, how many years 
did it require to form a layer oi forty to forty-six and one-half 
feet? The formation of the uppermost one, the Greek layer oi 
six and one-half feet required 1061. The time required to cover 
the foundations of Troy to a depth ol forty-six and one-half feet 
of debris must have been very long. The first layer of from 
thirteen to twenty feet on this hill oi Hissarlik belonged to the 
Aryan race, of whom very little can be said. The second layer 
was formed by the Trojans of Homer, and are supposed, by Dr. 
Schliemann and others to have flourished here about 1400 years 
before Christ. We have only the general supposition of antiquity 
that the Trojan war occurred about B. C. 1200, and Homer’s 
statement that Dardanus, the first Trojan King, founded Darda- 
nia, which town Virgil and Euripides consider identical with 
Ilium, and that after him it was governed by his son Erichthonius, 
and then by his grandson Tros, by his great-grandson Ilus, and 
then by his son Laomedon, and by his grandson Priam. Even if 
we allow every one of these six kings a long reign of thirty-three 
years, we nevertheless scarcely carry the foundation of the town 
beyond 1400 B. C., that is 700 years before the Greek colony. 

During Dr. Schliemann’s three-year excavations in the depths 
of Troy, he has had daily and hourly opportunities of convincing 
himself that, from the standard of our own or of the ancient Greek 
mode of life, we can form no idea of the life and doings of the 
four nations which successively inhabited this hill before the time 
of the Greek settlement. They must have had a terrible time of 
it, otherwise we should not find the walls of one house upon the 
ruined remains of another, in continuous but irregular succes¬ 
sion; and it is just because we can form no idea of the way in 
which these nations lived and what calamities they had to endure, 
that it is impossible to calculate the duration of their existence, 
even approximately, from the thickness of their ruins. It is ex¬ 
tremely remarkable, but perfectly intelligible from the continual 


FIRST SETTLERS. 


39 1 


calamities which befel the town, that the civilization of all the 
four nations constantly declined; the terra-cottas, which show con- 
tinuous decadence , leave no doubt of this. 

The first settlement on this hill of Hissarlik seems to have 
been ol the longest duration, for its ruins cover the rock to a 
height of from thirteen to twenty feet. Its houses and walls of 
fortification were built of stones, large and small, joined with 
earth, and manifold remains of these may be seen in the excava¬ 
tions. It was supposed that these settlers were identical with the 
Trojans of whom Homer sang, which is not the case. 

All that can be said of the first settlers is that they be¬ 
longed to the Aryan race, as is sufficiently proved by the Aryan 
religious symbols met with in the strata of their ruins, both upon 
the pieces of pottery and upon the small curious terra-cottas 
with a hole in the centre, which have the form of the crater of a 
volcano or of a carrousel , i. e., a top. 

The excavations made have sufficiently proved that the sec¬ 
ond nation which built a town on this hill, upon the debris of the 
first settlers (which is from 13 to 20 feet deep), are the Trojans 
of whom Homer sings. Their debris lies from 23 to 33 feet 
below the surface. This Trojan stratum, which, without excep¬ 
tion, bears marks of great-heat, consists mainly of red ashes of 
wood, which rise from 5 to 10 feet above the Great Tower of 
Ilium, the double Scsean Gate, and the great enclosing Wall, the 
construction of which Homer ascribes to Poseidon and Apollo, 
and they show that the town was destroyed by a fearful confla¬ 
gration. How great the heat must have been is clear also from 
the large slabs of stone upon the road leading from the double 
Scaean Gate down to the Plain; for when the road was laid open 
all the slabs appeared as uninjured as if they had been put down 
quite recently; but after they had been exposed to the air for a 
few days, the slabs of the upper part of the road, to the extent 
of some 10 feet, which had been exposed to the heat, began to 


39 2 


TROY. 


crumble away, and they have now almost disappeared, while 
those of the lower portion of the road, which had not been 
touched by the fire, have remained uninjured, and seem to be 
indestructible. A further proof of the terrible catastrophe is 
furnished by a stratum of scoriae of melted lead and copper, 
from one fifth to one and one fifth of an inch thick, which ex¬ 
tends nearly through the whole hill at a depth of from 28 to 
29^ feet. That Troy was destroyed by enemies after a bloody 
war is further attested by the many human bones which were 
found in these heaps of debris , and above all the skeletons with 
helmets, found in the depths of the Temple of Athena, for, as we 
know from Homer, all corpses were burned and the ashes were 
preserved in urns. Of such urns were found an. immense num¬ 
ber in all the pre-Hellenic strata on the hill. Lastly, the Treas¬ 
ure, which some member of the royal family had probably 
endeavored to save during the destruction of the city, but was 
forced to abandon, leaves no doubt that the city was destroyed 
by the hands of enemies. This Treasure was found on the 
large enclosing wall by the side of the royal palace, at a depth 
of 27 y 2 feet, and covered with red Trojan ashes from 5 to 
feet in depth, above which was a post-Trojan wall of fortification 
19 y 2 feet high. 

As Homer is so well informed about the topography and 
the climatic conditions of the Troad, there can surely be no 
doubt that he had himself visited Troy. But, as he was there 
long after its destruction, and its site had moreover been buried 
deep in the debris of the ruined town, and had for centuries been 
built over by a new town, Homer could neither have seen the 
Great Tower of Ilium nor the Scsean Gate, nor the great enclos¬ 
ing Wall, nor the palace of Priam; for, as every visitor to the 
Troad may convince himself by the excavations, the ruins and 
red ashes of Troy alone—forming a layer of from five to ten 
feet thick—covered all these remains of immortal fame, and this 




SCAEAN GATE. 


393 


accumulation of debris must have been much more considerable 
at the time of Homer’s visit. Homer made no excavations so 
as to bring those remains to light, but he knew of them from 
tradition; for the tragic fate of Troy had for centuries been in 
the mouths of all minstrels, and the interest attached to it was 
so great that tradition itself gave the exact truth in many 
details. 

“ Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell, 

Muses—for ye are Goddesses, and ye 

Were present and know all things; we ourselves 

But hear from Rumor's voice , and nothing know— 

Who were the chiefs and mighty lords of Greece.” 

Such, for instance, is the • memory of the Scaean Gate in the 
Great Tower of Ilium, and the constant use of the name Scaean 
Gate in the plural, because it had to be described as double, and 
in fact it has been proved to be a double gate. According to 
the lines*of the Ilaid, it now seems extremely probable .that, at 
the time of Homer’s visit, the King of Troy declared that his 
race was descended in a direct line from HSneas. 

“ But o’er the Trojans shall -^Eneas reign, 

And his sons’ sons, through ages yet unborn.” 

Now, as Homer never saw Ilium’s Great Tower, nor the 
Scaean Gate, and could not imagine that these buildings lay 
buried deep beneath his feet, and as he probably imagined Troy 
to have been very large—according to the then existing poetical 
legends—and perhaps wished to describe it as still larger, we can 
not be surprised that he makes Hector descend from the palace 
in the Pergamus and hurry through the town in order to arrive 
at the Scaean Gate; whereas that gate and Ilium’s Great Tower, 
in which it stands, are in reality directly in front of the royal 
house. That this house is really the king’s palace seems evident 
from its size, from the thickness of its stone walls, in contrast to 
those of the other houses of the town, which are built almost 
exclusively of unburned bricks, and from its imposing situation 



394 


TROY. 


upon an artificial hill directly in front of or beside the Scscan 
Gate, the Great Tower, and the great surrounding Wall. This 
is confirmed by the many splendid objects found in its ruins, 
especially the enormous royally ornamented vase with the pic¬ 
ture of the owl-headed goddess Athena, the tutelary divinity of 
Ilium; and lastly, above all oth*er things, the rich Treasure found 
close by it. It can not, of course, be proved that the name of 
this king, the owner of this Treasure, was 
really Priam; but he is so called by Homer 
and in all' the traditions. All that can be 
proved is, that the palace of the owner of 
this Treasure, this last Trojan king, per¬ 
ished in the great catastrophe, which de¬ 
stroyed the Scgean Gate, the great sur¬ 
rounding Wall, and the Great Tower, and 
which desolated the whole city. It can be 
proved, by the enormous quantities of red 
and yellow calcined Trojan ruins, from five 

to ten feet in height, which covered and enveloped these edifices, 

and by the many 
// ^ post-Trojan build¬ 

ings, which were 
again erected up¬ 
on these calcined 
heaps of ruins, 

that neither the palace of the owner of the Treasure, nor the 





Scsean Gate, nor the great surrounding Wall, nor Ilium’s Great 
Tower, were ever again brought to light. A city, whose king 
possessed such a Treasure, was immensely wealthy, considering 
the circumstances of these times; and because Troy was rich it 
was powerful, had many subjects, and obtained auxiliaries from 
all quarters. 

This Treasure of the supposed mythical king Priam, of the 




CALL OF MENELAUS. 


395 


mythical heroic age, is, at all events, a discovery which stands 
alone in archaeology, revealing great wealth, great civilization 
and great taste for art, in an age preceding the discovery of 
bronze, when weapons and implements of pure copper were 
employed contemporaneously with enormous quantities of stone 
weapons and implements. This Treasure further leaves no doubt 
that Homer must have actually seen gold and silver articles, 
such as he continually describes; it is, in every respect, of ines¬ 
timable value to science, and will for centuries remain the object 
of careful investigation. 

While the Trojan war was the last it was also the greatest 
of all the achievements of the heroic age, and was immortalized 
by the genius of Homer. Paris, son of Priam, king of Ilium or 
Troy, abused the hospitality of Menelaus, king of Sparta, by car¬ 
rying off his wife Helen, the most beautiful woman of the age. 
All the Grecian princes looked upon the outrage as committed 
upon themselves. Responding to the call of Menelaus, they as¬ 
semble in arms, elect his brother Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, 
leader of the expedition, and sail across the PEgean in nearly 
1,200 ships to recover the faithless fair one. Some, however, ex¬ 
celled Agamemnon in fame. Among them Achilles stands pre¬ 
eminent in strength, beauty and value, while Ulysses surpasses 
all the rest in the mental qualities of counsel, subtility and elo¬ 
quence. Thus, by the opposite endowments, these two heroes 
form the centre of the group. 

Among the Trojans, Hector, one of the sons of Priam, is 
most distinguished lor heroic qualities, and forms a sti iking con¬ 
trast to his handsome, but effeminate brother, Paris. It is said 
that even the gods took part in the contest, encouraging their 
favorite heroes, and sometimes fighting by their side 01 in theii 
stead. It was not until the tenth year that Troy yielded to the 
inevitable fate. It was delivered over to the sword and its glory 
sank in ashes. 


39 6 


TROY. 


• The houses of Troy were all very high, and had several 
stories, as is obvious from the thickness of the walls, the con¬ 
struction and colossal heaps of debris. The city was immensely 
rich, and as it was wealthy, so was it powerful and its buildings 
large. The ruins are found in a badly decayed state, because of 
the great fires that occurred there, and the neighboring towns 



GOLDEN CUDS OF PRIAM. 

were largely built with stone from the ruins of Troy; Archseanax 
is said to have built a long wall around Sigeum with its stones. 

A portion of a large building was laid bare, the walls of 
which are 6 ]/^ feet thick, and consist for the most part of hewn 
blocks of limestone joined with 'clay. None of the stones seem 
to be more than i foot 9 inches long-, and they are so skillfully 
put together, that the walls form a smooth surface. This house 
is built upon a layer of yellow and brown ashes and ruins, at a 
depth of 20 feet, and the portion of the walls preserved reaches 
, up to within 10 feet below the surface-of the hill. In the house, 
as far as has been excavated, only one vase, with two breasts in 
front and one breast at the side, ha's been found. 

This is the first house that Dr. Schliemann excavated, which 
is quite evident by what he writes about it: u It is with a feeling 
of great interest that, from this great platform, that is, at a per¬ 
pendicular height of from thirty-three to forty-two feet, I see this. 




























































HOUSES AT TROY. 


397 


very ancient building (which may have been erected 1000 years 
before Christ) standing as it were in mid air.” 

A room was excavated which is ten feet high and eleven and 
one-lourth wide; it was at one time much higher; its length has 
not been ascertained. 

One of the compartments of the uppermost houses, below 
the Temple of Athena and belonging to the pre-Hellenic period, 
appears to have been used as a wine-merchant’s cellar or as a 
magazine, for in it there are nine enormous earthen jars of vari¬ 
ous forms, about five and three-fourths feet high and four and 
three-fourths feet across, their mouths being from twenty-nine and 
one-half to thirty-five and one-fourth inches broad. Each of 
these earthen jars has four handles, three and three-fourths inches 
broad, and the clay of which they are made has the enormous 
thickness of two and one-fourth inches. 

A house of eight rooms was also brought to light at a depth 
of twenty-six feet. It stands upon the great Tower, directly be¬ 
low the Greek Temple of Athena. Its walls consist of small 
stones cemented with earth, and they appear to belong to differ¬ 
ent epochs; for, while some of them rest directly upon the stones 
of the Tower, others were not built till the Tower was covered 
with eight inches, and in several cases even with three and one- 
fourth feet, of debris. These walls also show differences in thick¬ 
ness; one of them is four and one-half feet, others are only 
twenty-five and one-half inches, and others again not more than 
nineteen and two-thirds inches thick. Several of these walls are 
ten feet high, and on some of them may be seen large remnants 
of the coatings of clay, painted yellow or white. Black marks, 
the result of fire, upon the lower portion of the walls of the other 
rooms which have been excavated, leave no doubt that their 
floors were of wood, and were destroyed by fire. In one room 
there is a wall in the form of a semicircle, which has been burnt 
as black as coal. All the rooms as yet laid open, and not resting 


39 8 


TROY. 


directly upon the Tower, have been excavated down to the same 
level; and, without exception, the debris below them consists of 
red or yellow ashes and burnt ruins. Above these, even- in the 
rooms themselves, were found nothing but either red or yellow 
wood»ashes, mixed with bricks that had been dried in the sun 
and subsequently burnt by the conflagration, or black debris , the 
remains of furniture, mixed with masses of small shells: in proof 
of this there are the many remains which are still hanging 
on the walls. 

A very large ancient building was found standing upon the 
wall or buttress. At this place the wall appears to be about 
seventy-nine feet wide, or thick. The site of this building, upon 
an elevation, together with its solid structure, leave no doubt that 
it was the grandest building in Troy; nay, that it must have been 
the Palace of Priam. This edifice, now first laid open from be¬ 
neath the ashes which covered it in the burning of the city, was 
found by Dr. Schliemann in the very state to which, in Homer, 
Agamemnon threatens to reduce it: “The house of Priam black¬ 
ened with fired 

Upon this house, by the side of the double gate, upon 
Ilium’s Great Tower, at the edge of the western slope of the 
Acropolis, sat Priam, the seven elders of the city, and Helen; 
and this is the scene of the most splendid passage in the Iliad: 

“Attending there on aged Priam, sat 

The Elders of the city;. 

All these were gathered at the Seaean Gates. 

.so on Uion’s Tower 

Sat the sage chiefs and counselors of Troy. 

Helen they saw, as to the Tower she came.” 

From this spot the company surveyed the whole plain, and 
saw at the foot of the Acropolis the Trojan and the Achaean 
armies face to face, about to settle their agreement to let the war 
be decided by a single combat between Paris and Menelaus. 

“Upon Scamander's flowery mead they stood 
Unnumbered as the vernal leaves and flower* ” 



OBJECTS FOUND IN HOUSES. 


399 


The description which Homer gives of the Tower of Ilium, 
and the incidents connected with it, corresponds so closely to the 
tower which Dr. Schliemann found that it leaves no doubt that 
the two are identical. 



wonderful vases of terra-cotta. (From the Palace of Priam, at 24% feet.) 

“ Now, with regard to the objects found in these houses, I 
must first of all mention having discovered, at a depth ol twenty- 
six feet, in the Palace of Priam, a splendid and brilliant brown 
vase, twenty-four and one-fourth inches high, with a figure ol 
the tutelar" goddess of Troy, that is, with her owl’s head, 




































































400 


TROY 


two breasts, a splendid necklace, indicated by an engraved pattern, 
a very broad and beautifully engraved girdle, and other very 



FROM PALACE OF PRIAM. 

artistic decorations; there are no arms, nor are there any indica¬ 
tions of them. Unfortunately this exquisite vase has suffered from 




















































































SILVER VASES. 


401 


the weight of stones which lay upon it. No. 4 resembles an owl’s 
beak, and especially as this is seen between the ear-shaped orna¬ 
ments, it was doubtless intended to represent the image of the 
owl with upraised wings on each side of the vases, which image 
received a noble appearance from the splendid lid with a coronet. 
I give a drawing of the largest vase of this type, which was 
found a few days ago in the royal palace at a depth of from 
twenty-eight to twenty-nine and one-half feet; on the top of it I 
have placed the bell-shaped lid with a coronet, which was dis¬ 
covered close by and appears to have belonged to it. 

u I also found in the Treasure three great silver vases, the 

largest of which is above eight and one-fourth inches high and 

• % 

nearly eight inches in diameter, and has a handle live and one- 
half inches in length and three and one-half in breadth. (No. 
23.) The second vase is 6.9 inches high and nearly six inches in 
diameter; another silver vase is welded to the upper part of it 
(No. 22), of which, however, only portions have been preserved. 
No. 19 is a splendid Terra-cotta vase from the Palace of 
Priam. It is the largest vase of the type frequent in the ruins, 
with two small handles and two great upright wings. The cover 
was found near it. 



“ On the south side of the hill, where, on account of the 
slight natural slope, I had to make my great trench with an incli¬ 
nation of fourteen degrees, I discovered, at a distance of 197 feet 
from the declivity, a Tower, forty feet thick, which I have un¬ 
covered on the north and south sides along the whole breadth of 

26 



402 


TROY. 


my trench, and have convinced myself that it is built on the rock 
at a depth of forty-six and a half feet. 

u The Tower is at present only twenty feet high, but the 
nature of its surface, and the masses of stones lying on both sides, 
seem to prove that it was at one time much higher. For the pres¬ 
ervation of what remains we have only to thank the ruins ot 
Troy, which entirely covered the Tower as it now stands. It is 
probable that after the destruction of Troy much more of it re¬ 
mained standing, and that the part which rose above the ruins 
of the town was destroyed by the successors of the Trojans, 
who possessed neither walls nor fortifications. The western part 
of the Tower, so far as it is yet uncovered, is only from 121 to 
124 feet distant from the steep western slope of the hill; and, 
considering the enormous accumulation of debris , I believe that 
the Tower once stood on the western edge of the Acropolis, 
where its situation would be most interesting and imposing, for 
its top would have commanded, not only a view of the whole Plain 
of Troy, but of the sea with the Islands of Tenedos, Imbros and 
Samothrace. There is not a more sublime situation in the area 
of Troy than this, and I therefore presume that it is the 1 Great 
Tower of Ilium ’ which Andromache ascended because ‘ she 
had heard that the Trojans were hard pressed and that the 
power of the Achseans was great.’ 

“ ‘ But to the height of Ilion’s topmost tower 
Andromache is gone; since tidings came 
The Trojan force was overmatched, and great 
The Grecian strength.’ 

“ After having been buried for thirty-one centuries, and 
after successive nations have built their houses and palaces high 
above its summit during thousands of years, this Tower has now 
again been brought to light, and commands a view, if not of the 
whole Plain, at least of the northern part and of the Hellespont. 
May this sacred and sublime monument of Greek heroism for- 


TAKING OUT THE TREASURE. 


4°3 


ever attract the eyes of those who sail through the Hellespont! 
May it become a place to which the inquiring youth of all future 
generations shall make pilgrimage to fan their enthusiasms for 
knowledge, and above all for the noble language and literature 
of Greece! 

u Directly by the side of the Palace of King Priam I came 
upon a large copper article of the most remarkable form, which 
attracted my attention all the more as I thought I saw gold 
behind it. On the top of this copper article lay a stratum of red 
and calcined ruins, from four and three-quarters to five and one- 
quarter feet thick, as hard as stone, and above this again lay a 
wall of fortification (six feet broad and twenty feet high) which 
was built ot large stones and earth, and must have belonged 
to an early date after the destruction of Troy. In order to' 
withdraw the Treasure from the greed of my workmen, and 
to save it for archaeology, I had to be most expeditious, and 
although it was not yet time for breakfast,* I immediately had 
breakfast called. While the men were eating and resting I 
cut out the Treasure with a large knife, which it was impos¬ 
sible to do without the very greatest exertion and the most 
fearful risk of my life, for the great fortification wall, be-’ 
neath which I had to dig, threatened every moment to fall 
down upon me. But the sight of so many objects, every one of 
which is of inestimable value to archaeology, made me foolhardy, 
and I never thought of any danger. It would, however, have 
been impossible for me to have removed the Treasure without 
the help of my dear wife, who stood by me ready to pack the 
things which I cut out in her shawl and to carry them away. 

“ The first thing I found was a large copper shield, in the 
form of an oval salver, in the middle of which is a knob or boss 
encircled by a small furrow. It is a little less than twenty inches 
in length, is quite flat, and surrounded by a rim one and one-half 
inches high; the boss is two and one-third inches high and 


TROY 


4°4 


four and one-third inches in diameter; the furrow encircling it 
is seven inches in diameter and two-fifths of an inch deep. 
This round shield of copper (or bronze?) with its central boss, 



TREASURES OF PRIAM. 

and the furrow and rim so suitable for holding together a cover¬ 
ing of ox-hides, reminds one irresistibly of the seven-fold shield 
of Ajax (Iliad vii. 219-223): 











































































































































SHIELD OF THE TREASURE. 


4°5 


“ ‘ Ajax approached; before him, as a tower, 

His mighty shield he bore, seven-fold, brass-bound, 

The work of Tychius, best artificer 
That wrought in leather; he in Hyla dwelt. 

Of seven-fold hides the ponderous shield was wrought 
Of lusty bulls; the eighth was glittering brass.’ 

u It is equally striking to compare the shield of the Treas¬ 
ure with the description of Sarpedon’s shield, with its round 
plate of hammered copper (or bronze), 'and its covering of ox¬ 
hides, fastened to the inner edge of the rim by gold wires or 
rivets (Iliad xii. 294-297): 

His shield’s broad orb before his breast he bore. 

Well wrought, of beaten brass , which the armorer’s hand 
Had beaten out, and lined with stout bull’s hide 
With golden rods, continuous, all around.’ 

u The second object which I got out was a copper caldron with 
two horizontal handles. It is sixteen and one-half inches in 
diameter and five and one-half inches high; the bottom is flat, 
and is nearly eight inches in diameter. In the Iliad this vessel is 
used almost always as a caldron, and is often given as a prize at 
games; in the Odyssey it is always used for washing the hands 
or feet. This one shows the marks of a fearful conflagration, 
and near the left handle are seen two fragments of copper 
weapons (a lance and a battle-ax) firmly molten on. (See No. 

2 5 -) 

“ The third object was a copper plate two-fifths of an inch 
thick, six and one-third inches broad, and seventeen and one-third 
inches long; it has a rim about one-twelfth of an inch high; at 
one end of it there are two immovable wheels with an axle-tree. 
This plate is very much bent in two places, but I believe that 
these curvatures have been produced by the heat to which the 
article was exposed in the conflagration; a silver vase four and 
three-fourths inches high and broad has been fused to it; I suppose, 
however, that this also happened by accident in the heat of the 
fire. (See No. 14.) 


TROY. 



“ This remarkable object lay at the top of the whole mass, 
and I suppose it to have formed a hasp to the lid of the wooden 
chest in which the Treasure was packed. The fourth article I 



brought out was a copper vase five and one-half inches high and 
four and one-third inches in diameter. Thereupon followed a 

globular bottle of the purest gold, weighing 6,220 
grains, or above one pound troy; it is nearly six 
inches high and five and one-half inches in diam¬ 
eter, and has the commencement of a zigzag 

decoration on the neck, which, 
however, is not continued all 
round.- Then came a cup, like¬ 
wise of the purest gold, weighing 
seven and one-fourth oz. troy; it 
is three and one-half inches high 
and three inches broad. (See 
Nos. 4 and 12.) 

“ Next came another cup of purest gold, weighing about 
one pound and six oz. troy; it is three and one-half inches high, 






























CONTENTS OF THE TREASURE 


4°7 


seven and one-fourth inches long, and seven and one-fifth 
inches broad; it is in the form of a ship, with two large 
handles; on one side there is a mouth one and one-fifth inches 
broad, for drinking out of, and another at the other side two and 
three-fourths inches broad. Prof. Stephanos Kumanudes, of 
Athens, remarks, the person who presented the filled cup may 
have first drank from the small mouth as a mark of respect, to 
let the guest drink from the larger mouth. (See No. io.) 



FOUND IN THE PALACE OF PRIAM. 

“ The Treasure further contained a small cup of gold weigh¬ 
ing two and one-fourth oz. troy; also six pieces of the purest 
silver in the form of large knife blades; they have all been 
wrought with a hammer. 

“I also found in the Treasure three great silver vases, the 














































































































































408 


TROY. 


largest of which is above eight and one-fourth inches high and 
nearly eight inches in diameter, and has a handle five and one- 
half inches in length and three and one-half in breadth; I found 
besides a number of silver goblets and cups. Upon and beside 
the gold and silver articles I found thirteen copper lances; also 
fourteen copper weapons, which are frequently met with here, 
and seven large double-edged copper daggers. 

“As I found all these articles together, forming a 
rectangular mass, or packed into one another, it seems 
to be certain that they were placed on the city wall in 
a wooden chest, such as those mentioned by Homer as 
being in the Palace of King Priam. This appears to 
be the more certain, as close by the side of these arti¬ 
cles I found a copper key above four inches long, the 
head of which (about two inches long and broad) 
greatly resembles a large safe-key of a bank. Curi¬ 
ously enough this key has had a wooden handle. 

“ That the Treasure was packed together at terri¬ 
ble risk of life, and in the greatest anxiety, is proved 
among other things also by the contents of a large 
silver vase, at the bottom of which I found two o- 0 ld 
diadems, a fillet and four beautiful ear-rings of most 
exquisite workmanship; upon these lay fifty-six gold 
ear-rings of exceedingly curious form, and 8,750 small g old 
rings, perforated prisms and dice, gold buttons and similar jewels; 
then followed six gold bracelets, and, on the top of all, the two 
small gold goblets. Some of these are mentioned by Homer: 

“ ‘Far off were flung the adornments of lier head; 

The net, the fillet, and the woven band, 

The nuptial-veil by golden Venus given.’ 

“ The one diadem consists of a gold fillet, twenty-one and 
two-thirds inches long and nearly half an inch broad, from which 
there hang on either side seven little chains to cover the. 












EAR-RINGS AND CHAINS. 


temples, each of which has eleven square leaves 
with a groove; these chains are joined to one 
another by four little cross chains, at the end of 
which hang-s a glittering golden idol of the tutelar 




goddess of Troy, nearly an inch long. L 




The entire length of each of these 
chains, with the idols, amounts to ten 
and one-quarter inches. Almost all 
these idols have something of the 
human form, but the owl’s head with 
the two large eyes can not be mis¬ 
taken; their breadth at the lower 
end is about nine-tenths of an inch. 
S|i Between these orna¬ 
ments for the tem¬ 
ples there are forty- 
seven little pendant chains adorned 
with square leaves; at the end of 
each little chain is an idol of the 
tutelar goddess of Ilium, about 
three-quarters of an inch long; "A 
the length of these little chains 
with the idols is not quite four 
inches. The fillet is above 
eighteen inches long and two- 
fifths of an inch broad, and has 
three perforations at each end. 

Eight quadruple rows of dots divide it into nine 

compartments, in each 
of which there are two 
large dots, and an unin¬ 
terrupted row of dots 
adorns the whole edge. 
(See Fig. i.) Of the 
four ear-rings only two 


>— 




\ \V 





'y 


*Q 


!# 



■rn~rn- 







































































410 


TROY. 


are exactly alike; from the upper part, which is almost in the 
shape of a basket, and is ornamented with two rows of decora¬ 
tions in the form of beads, there hang six small chains on which 
are three little cylinders; attached to the end of the chains are 
small idols of the tutelar goddess of Troy. The length of each 
ear-ring is three and one-half inches. The upper part of the 
other two ear-rings is larger and thicker, but likewise almost in 
the shape of a basket; from it are suspended five little chains en¬ 
tirely covered with small round leaves, on which are likewise 
fastened small but more imposing idols of the Ilian tutelar divin¬ 
ity; the length of one of these pendants is three and one-half 
inches, that of the other a little over three inches. (See Fig. 

v-) 

44 Homer, in the Iliad, sings of 4 beautifully twined tassels of 
solid gold 1 which adorned Athene: 

“ ‘ All around 

A hundred tassels hung, rare works of art, 

All gold, each one a hundred oxen’s price.’ 

44 Again, when Hera adorns herself to captivate Jove, her 
zone is fringed with a hundred tassels, and her ear-rings are 
described in terms corresponding exactly to the triple leaves 
above described: 

“ ‘ Her zone, from which a hundred tassels hung, 

She girt above her; and, in three bright drops, 

Her glittering gems suspended from her ears, 

And all around her grace and beauty shone.’ 

44 Of the six gold bracelets two are quite simple, and closed, 
but consist of an ornamented band one-twenty-fifth of an inch 
thick and one-fourth of an inch broad. The other three are 
double, and the ends are turned round and furnished with a head. 
The princess who wore these bracelets must have had unusually 
small hands, for they are so small that a girl of ten would have 
difficulty,in putting them on. 

44 The fifty-six other gold ear-rings are of various sizes, and 


GOLD BUTTONS, STUDS, ETC. 


4 11 



three of them appear to have also been used by the princesses 
of the royal family as finger-rings. Also gold buttons were 
found, or studs, one-sixth of an inch high, in the cavity of which 
is a ring above one-tenth of an inch broad for sewing them on; 
gold double buttons, exactly like our 
shirt studs, three-tenths of an inch 
long, which, however, are not sol¬ 
dered, but simply stuck together, for 
from the cavity of the button there 
projects a tube, nearly one-fourth of 
an inch long, and from the other a 
pin of the same length, and the pin 
is merely stuck into the tube to form 
a double stud. (See Fig. No. 16.) 

These double buttons or studs can 
only have been used, probably, as 

j 7 r J Six GOLDEN BRACELETS WELDED TO- 

ornament upon leather articles, for gether by the conflagration. 
instance upon the handle-straps of swords, shields, or knives. 
I found in the vase also two gold cylinders above one-tenth of 

an inch long; also a small peg above four- 
filths of an inch in length, and from six 
one-hundreths to eight one-hundreths of 
an inch thick ; it has at one end a per¬ 
forated hole for hanging it up, and on the 
other side six encircling incisions, which 
give the article the appearance of a screw; 
it is only by means of a magnifying glass 
that it is found not to be really a screw. 
I also found in the same vase two pieces of gold, one of which 
is one-seventh of an inch, the other above two inches long; each 

of them has twenty-one perforations. 

“The persons who endeavored to save the Treasure had for¬ 
tunately the presence of mind to stand the silver vase, containing 



























412 


TROY. 


the valuable articles described above, upright in the chest, so 
that not so much as a bead could fall out, and everything has 
been preserved uninjured. 

u M. Landerer, of Athens, a chemist well known through 
his discoveries and writings, who has most carefully examined 
all the copper articles of the Treasure, and analyzed the frag- 
ments, finds that all of them consist of pure copper without any 
admixture of tin or zinc, and that, in order to make them more 
durable, they have been wrought with the hammer. 

“ As I hoped to find other treasures here, and also wished 
to bring to light the wall surrounding Troy, the erection of 



which Homer ascribes to Poseidon and Apollo, as far as the 
Scaean Gate, I have entirely cut away the upper wall, which 
rested partly upon the gate, to an extent of fifty-six feet. Vis¬ 
itors to the Troad can, however, still see part of it in the 
northwest earth-wall opposite the Scaean Gate. I have also 
broken down the enormous block of earth which separated my 
western and northwestern cutting from the Great Tower. The 
result of this new excavation is very important to archgeology, 
for I have been able to uncover several walls, and also a room 
of the Royal Palace, twenty feet in length and breadth, upon 
which no buildings of a later period rest. 

“Of the objects discovered there I have only to mention an 
excellently engraved inscription found upon a square piece of red 
slate, which has two holes not bored through it and an encircling 
incision, but neither can my learned friend Emile Burnouf nor 
I tell in what language the inscription is written. Further, there 





SILVER GOBLET AND VASES. 


4*3 


were some interesting terra-cottas, among which is a vessel, 
quite the form of a modern cask, and with a tube in the centre 
for pouring in and drawing off the liquid. There were also 
found upon the walls of Troy, one and three-fourths feet below 
the place where the Treasure was discovered, three silver dishes, 
two of which were broken to pieces in digging down the debris , 
they can, however, be repaired, as I have all the pieces. These 
dishes seem to have belonged to the Treasure, and the fact of 
the latter having otherwise escaped our pickaxes is due to the 
above mentioned large copper vessels which projected, so that I 
could cut everything out of the hard debris with a knife. 

“ I found, further, a silver goblet above three and one-third 
inches high, the mouth bf which is nearly four inches in diame¬ 
ter; also a silver flat cup or dish five and one-half inches in 

diameter, and two beautiful small silver vases of most exquisite 

% 

workmanship. The larger one, which has two rings on either 
side for hanging up by strings, is nearly eight inches high with 
its hat-shaped lid, and three and one-half inches in diameter 
across the bulge. The smaller silver vase, with a ring on either 
side ft>r suspension by a string, is about six and three-fourths 
inches high, with its lid, and above three inches broad. 

U I now perceive that the cutting which I made in April was 
exactly at the proper point, and that if I -had only continued it I 
should in a few weeks have uncovered the most remarkable 
buildings in Troy, namely, the Palace of King Priam, the Scsean 
Gate, the Great Surrounding Wall, and the Great Tower of 
Ilium; whereas, in consequence of abandoning this cutting, I had 
to make colossal excavations from east to west and from north to 
south through the entire hill in order to find those most interest¬ 
ing buildings. 

“ In the upper strata of the north western and western exca¬ 
vations we came upon another great quantity of heads of beauti¬ 
ful terra-cotta figures of the best Hellenic period, and at a depth 


4H 


TROY. 


of twenty-three feet upon some idols, as well as the upper por¬ 
tion of a vase with the owl’s lace and a lid in the form ol a 
helmet. Lids of this kind, upon the edge of which female hair 
is indicated by incisions, are frequently found in all the strata 
between thirteen and thirty-three feet deep, and as they belong 
to vases with owls’ faces, the number ol lids gives us an idea ol 
the number of the vases with the figure of the owl-headed 
Athene, which existed here in Troy. 

u Homer rarely mentions temples, and, although he speaks ol 

the Temple of Athene, yet, considering the smallness of the city, 

it is very doubtful whether it actually existed. It is probable 
0 

that the tutelar goddess at that time possessed only the sacrificial 
altar which I discovered, and the crescent form of which greatly 
resembles the upper portion of the ivory idol found in the lowest 
strata as well as the one end of the six talents contained among 
the Treasure. 

“ Valuable stones, such as those large flags which cover the 
road leading from the Scsean Gate to the Plain, as well as the 
stones of the enclosing wall and of the Great Tower, have been 
left untouched, and not a single stone of the Scsean Gate is 
wanting. Nay, with the exception of the houses which I myself 
destroyed, it would be quite possible to uncover the c carcasses ’ 
of all the houses, as in the case of Pompeii. The houses must 
have been very high, and a great deal of wood must have been 
used in their construction, for otherwise the conflagration could 
not have produced such an enormous quantity of ashes and rub¬ 
bish. 

u Upon and beside the gold and silver articles, I found thir¬ 
teen copper lances, from nearly seven to above twelve and one- 
half inches in length, and from above one and one-half to two 
and one-third inches broad at the broadest point; at the lower 
end of each is a hole, in which, in most cases, the nail or peg 
which fastened the lance to the wooden handle is still sticking. 


WEAPONS OF TROY. 


4 T 5 


The pin-hole is clearly visible in a lance-head which the conflagra¬ 
tion has welded to a battle-ax. The Trojan lances were there¬ 
fore quite different from those of the Greeks and Romans. 



u I also found fourteen of those copper weapons, which are 



frequently met with here, but which have never been discovered 


















































































































































































4i 6 


TROY. 


elsewhere; at one end they are pointed but blunt, and at the other 
they end in a broad edge. I formerly considered them to be a 
species of lance, but now, after mature consideration, I am con¬ 
vinced that they could have been used only as battle-axes. They 
are from above six to above twelve inches in length, from nearly 
one-half to above three-fourths of an inch thick, and from above 
one to nearly three inches broad; the largest of them weighs 
about three pounds avoirdupois. 


“ There were also seven 
large double-edged copper 
daggers, with a handle from 
about two to two and three- 
fourths inches long, the end 
of which is bent round at a 
right angle. These handles 
must at one time have been 
encased in wood, for if the 
cases had been made of 
bone they would still have 
been wholly or partially pre¬ 
served. The pointed handle 



was inserted into a piece of wood, so that the end projected 
about half an inch beyond it, and this end was simply bent 
round. The largest of these daggers is ten and two-thirds inches 
in length and above two inches broad at the broadest part; a 
second dagger, which is above one and three-fourths inches broad, 
has the point broken off, and is now less than nine inches long, 
but appears to have been eleven inches; a third dagger is eight 
and two-thirds inches long, and measures above one and one- 
fourth inches at the broadest point. 

“ On the north side of the hill I have now also uncovered 
several house-walls at a depth of forty-two and one-half feet, 
and also the beginning of a remarkable wall of fortification, the 































































TERRA COTTA JUGS. 


4*7 


continuation of which may be seen in the labyrinth of the house- 
walls in the depths of the Temple of Athene. On the north 
side, above the primary soil, I have also brought to light a por¬ 
tion of the pavement already mentioned, composed of small, 
round, white sea-pebbles, below which are the calcined ruins of 
a building which formerly stood there. 

u Among some very remarkable terra-cottas discovered 
since my last report I must mention two jugs found on the 
north side, at a depth of from twenty-three to twenty-six feet, 
each of which has two upright necks standing side by side, but 
their handles are united. One of them has also beside the 
mouths two small elevations, which may probably indicate eyes. 
Of a third jug of this kind I only found the upper portion. I 
must also mention an exceedingly curious cup, discovered at a 
depth of thirteen feet, which consists of a tube resting upon three 
feet and ending in one large and two small goblets; the larger 
goblet is connected with the opposite side of the tube by a 
handle. At the same depth I met with a large vase, from 

which projects a separate small vase; it is ornamented with 

incisions, and has three feet and two very pretty handles and 

rings for hanging it up. I found likewise, at the depth of thir¬ 

teen feet, a vase with two female breasts, two large handles and 
engravings resembling letters. Among other extremely curious 
terra-cottas I must also mention three pots with three rows of 
perforations; they have the usual handle on one side and three 
feet on the other; also three large vases with perforations right 
round, on all sides, from the bottom to the top; their use is a 
riddle to me; can they have served as bee-hives? Also a vessel 
in the form of a pig, with four feet, which are, however, shorter 
than the belly, so that the vessel can not stand upon them; the 
neck of the vessel, which is attached to the back of the pig, is 
connected with the hinder part by a handle. I further found a 
pot in the form of a basket with a handle crossing the mouth, 


418 


TROY. 


and a tube in the bulge for drawing off the liquid. Also two 
terra-cotta funnels, at a depth of ten feet, with a letter which I 
have repeatedly met with on some of the terra-cottas. At a 
depth of live feet I found one of those round twice-perforated 
terra-cottas with a stamp, in which there are Egyptian hiero¬ 
glyphics; also a dozen of the same articles in the stamps of 
which are a crowned head, a bird, a dog’s head, a flying man or 
an eagle and a stag. At a depth of sixteen and one-half feet I 
found the handle of a cup with the beautifully modeled head of 
a bull. 

“ Neither can I prove that the terra-cottas here frequently 
met with, in the form of horses’ heads, represent the mother of 
Hera, Cybele or Rhea, but it is very likely, for, as it is well 
known, in Phrygia she was represented with a. horse’s head. 
Terra-cotta idols of the Ilian Athene are rarely met with, but 
we daily find marble idols of this goddess, most of which have 
almost a human form. We also frequently come upon oblong 
flat pieces of rough marble upon which the owl’s face of the 
goddess is more or less deeply engraved. It is often so finely 
scratched that the aid of a magnifying glass is required to con¬ 
vince one that it actually exists; we found several such pieces 
of marble where the owl’s head was painted in a black color. 
Since I have come to the conclusion that they are idols of the 
tutelar divinity of Troy I have carefully collected them. 

u In excavating the ground upon which my wooden house 
had stood we found, at a depth of from nine to nineteen inches, 

eighteen copper and two sib 
ver medals; one of the latter 
is of Marcus Aurelius. The 
other is a tetra-drachm of the 
island of Tenedos; on the ob¬ 
verse, to the right, is the head 
of Jupiter, to the left that of 
Juno, both having one neck in common, like the heads of Janus. 























CONDITION OF THE ROADS. 


4! 9 


The head of Jupiter is crowned with laurels, that of Juno has a 
wreath or crown. Upon the reverse of the coin there is a laurel 
wreath round the edge, and in the centre a large double ax, 
above which stands the word Teneelion, below and to the right 
of the handle of the double ax there is a winged Eros, who is 
holding up an object which it is difficult to distinguish, to the left 
is a bunch of grapes and a monogram, which looks like the 
letter A. 

“ Of the copper coins live are of Alexandria Troas, two of 
Ophrynium, one of Tenedos, two of Abydos, and one of Dar- 
dania. 

u When I uncovered the road paved with large flags of 
stone, which leads from the Scsean Gate to the Plain, the stones 
looked as new as if they had just been hewn. But since then, 
under the influence of the burning sun, the flags of the upper 
portion of the road, which have specially suffered from the con¬ 
flagration that destroyed the city, are rapidly crumbling away, 
and will probably have quite disappeared in a few years. How¬ 
ever, the flags of stone on the northwestern half of the road, 
which have been less exposed to the heat, may still last many 
centuries. 

“ In this day, closing the excavations at Ilium forever, I can 
not but fervently thank God for His great mercy, in that, not¬ 
withstanding the terrible- danger to which we have been exposed 
owing to the continual hurricanes, during the last three years’ 
gigantic excavations, no misfortune has happened, no one has 
been killed, and no one has been seriously hurt. 

“In my last report I did not state the exact number of springs 
in front of the Ilium. I have now visited all the springs myself, 
and measured their distance from my excavations, and I can give 
the following account of them. The first spring, which is situ¬ 
ated directly below the ruins of the ancient town-wall, is exactly 
399 y&rds from my excavations ] its water has a temperature of 


420 


TROY. 


6o.8° Fahrenheit. It is enclosed to a height of six and-one-half 
feet by a wall of large stones joined with cement, nine and one- 
quarter feet in breadth, and in front of it there are two stone 
troughs for watering cattle. The second spring, which is like¬ 
wise still below the ruins of the ancient town-wall, is exactly 793 
yards distant from my excavations. It has a similar enclosure ol 
larsre stones, seven feet high and five feet broad, and has the same 
temperature. But it is out of repair, and the water no longer 
runs through the stone pipe in the enclosure, but along the ground 
before it reaches the pipe. The double spring spoken of in my 
last report is exactly 1,033 yards from my excavations. It con¬ 
sists of two distinct springs, which run out through two stone 
pipes lying beside each other in the enclosure composed ol large 
stones joined with earth, which rises to a height ol seven feet 
and is twenty-three feet broad; its temperature is 62.6° Fahren¬ 
heit. In front of these two springs there are six stone troughs, 
which are placed in such a manner that the superfluous water 
always runs from the first trough through all the others. It is ex¬ 
tremely probable that these are the two springs mentioned by 
Homer, beside which Hector was killed. 

“ ‘They (Hector and Achilles) in flight and pursuit, 

They by the watch-tower, and beneath the wall 
Where stood the wind-beat fig-tree, raced amain 
Along the public road, until they reached 
The fairly-flowing founts, whence issued forth, 

From double source, Scamander’s eddying streams. 

One with hot current flows, and from beneath, 

As from a furnace, clouds of steam arise; 

’Mid Summer’s heat the other rises cold 
As hail, or snow, or water crystallized ; 

Beside the fountains stood the washing-troughs 
Of well-wrought stone, where erst the wives of Troy 
And daughters fair their choicest garments washed, 

In peaceful times, ere came the sons of Greece.’ 

“Inthis new excavation I find four earthen pipes, from eighteen 
and three-quarters to twenty-two and one-quarter inches long, and 


LACK OF INSCRIPTIONS. 


42I 


from six and one-halt to eleven and three-quarters inches thick, 
laid together for conducting water, which was brought from a 
distance ot about seven miles from the upper Thymbrius. This 
river is now called the Kemar, from the Greek word kamara 


(vault), because an aqueduct of the Roman period crosses its 
lower course by a large arch. This aqueduct formerly supplied 
Ilium with drinking water from the upper portion of the river. 
But the Pergamus required special aqueducts, for it lies higher 
than the city. 

“ Unfortunately upon none of the articles of the Treasure of 

Priam are there found any in¬ 
scriptions or any religious symbols 
except 100 idols of the Homeric 
4 owl-faced goddess Athene.’ 
(Thea glaukopis Athene) which 
glitter upon the two diadems and 
the four ear-rings. These are, however, an undeniable proof that 
the Treasure belongs to the city and to the age of which Homer 



sings. 


T> 


The question asked is: Has Schliemann found any inscrip¬ 
tions which throw the certain light of written testimony on the 

language, the history and social condition, the religion, science 

% 

and literature of the old inhabitants of the hill, whose records 
form as yet no part of ancient history? Upon this point very 
little satisfaction can be given, yet the people of ancient Troy 
did have a written language. At a depth of twenty-six feet, in 
the royal palace, a vase with an inscription was found. One of 
the letters resembles the Greek P. This same letter occurs on 
a seal found at a depth of twenty-three feet; two other letters 
of this inscription occurred on one other terra-cotta, likewise 
found at a depth of twenty-three feet. 

To Dr. Martin Haug belongs the honor of first deciphering 
the Trojan inscriptions on the above-mentioned vase. Pie, not 





422 


TROY. 


without much research, interpreted it as a dedication “ To the 
divine Sigo,” a deity whose name was found in Sigeum. The 
transmutation, however, seemed forced; and, while Haug was 
right in his method, his results were pronounced at best, 

“ Fragments of broken words and thoughts, 

Yet glimpses of the true.” 

Prof. T. Gomperz, of Vienna, after making one correction in 
Haug’s reading, still found it unsatisfactory, till the thought struck 
him of reading it from right to left round the vase, instead of 
from left to right, when the Confused syllables flashed, as by sud¬ 
den crystallization, into the pure Greek, and read: “To the 
divine Prince.” 

Another inscription was found which Prof. Max Muller read 
as the very name of Ilion. Others were found which are not as 
yet interpreted. 



i < 






TOOT TO 'PA'PYkOt! 


* 

Far away from the highways of modern commerce and the 
tracks of ordinary travel lay a city buried in the sandy earth 
of a half-desert Turkish province, with no trace of its place of 
sepulture. Vague tradition said it was hidden somewhere near 
the river Tigris; but for a long series of ages its existence in the 
wmrld was a mere name—a word. That name suggested the idea 
of an ancient capital of fabulous splendor and magnitude; a con¬ 
gregation of palaces and temples, encompassed by vast walls and 
ramparts—of a the rejoicing city that dwelt carelessly; that 
said in her heart, I am, and there is none beside me,” and which 
was to become “ a desolation and dry like a wilderness.” 

More than two thousand years had it lain in its unknown 
grave, when a French savant and a wandering scholar sought the 
seat of the once powerful empire, and searching till they found the 
dead city, threw off its shroud of sand and ruin, and revealed 
once more to an astonished and curious world the temples, the 
palaces, and the idols; the representations of war and the chase, 
of the cruelties and luxuries of the ancient Assyrians. The Nin¬ 
eveh of Scripture, the Nineveh of the oldest historians; the Nin¬ 
eveh—twin sister of Babylon—glorying in pomp and power, all 
traces of which were believed to be gone; the Nineveh in which 
the captive tribes of Israel had labored and wept, and against 
which the words of prophecy had gone forth, was, after a sleep of 

4 2 3 

. 



















NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


4 2 4 

twenty centuries, again brought to light. The proofs of ancient 
splendor were again beheld by living eyes, and by the skill of 
draftsmen and the pen of antiquarian travelers made known and 
preserved to the world. 

In the history of Jonah’s visit, Nineveh is twice described as 
“that great city,” and again as an “exceedingly great city of 
.three days’ journey.” 

The measurement assigned to Nineveh by the sacred writer 
applies, without doubt, to its circuit, and gives a circumference 
of about sixty miles. 

None of the historical books of the Old Testament give any 
details respecting Nineveh. The prophets, however, make fre¬ 
quent incidental allusion to its magnificence, to the “ fenced place,” 
the “stronghold,” the “valiant men and chariots,” the “silver 
and gold,” the “pleasant furniture,” “carved lintels and cedar 
work.” Zephaniah, who wrote about twenty-four years before 
the fall of Nineveh, says of it: 

“ This is the rejoicing city that dwelt carelessly; 

That said in her heart, ‘ I am, and there is none beside me.’ ” 

The ruins of Nineveh were virtually unknown to the ancient 
classical writers, though we gather from all of them that it was 
one of the oldest, most powerful and most splendid cities in the 
world; that it perished utterly many hundred years before the 
Christian Era; and that after its fall Babylon became the capital 
of the Assyrian empire, which finally grew still greater and 
mightier. On examining their details, we find names confounded, 
incidents transposed, and chronology by turns confused, extended 
or inverted. Difficulties of another and more peculiar kind beset 
this path of inquiry, of which it will suffice to instance one illus¬ 
tration—proper names, those fixed points in history around which 
the achievements or sufferings of its heroes cluster, are constantly 
shifting in the Assyrian nomenclature; both men and gods being 
designated, not by a word composed of certain fixed sounds or 



EXPLORATIONS OF NIEBUHR AND RICH. 


4 2 5 


signs, but by all the various expressions equivalent to it in mean¬ 
ing, whether consisting of a synonym or a phrase. Hence we 
find that the names furnished by classic authors generally have 
little or no analogy with the Assyrian, as the Greeks generally 
construed the proper names of other countries according to the 
genius of their own language, and not unfrequently translated the 
original name into it. Herodotus, however, though he mentions 
but one Assyrian king, gives his true name, Sennacherib. 

The immense mounds of brick and rubbish which marked 
the presumed sites of Babylon and Nineveh had been used as 
quarries by the inhabitants of the surrounding country, from 
time immemorial, without disclosing to other eyes than those of 
the wild occupier of the soil the monuments they must have 
served to support or cover. Though carefully explored by Nie¬ 
buhr and Claudius James Rich, no other traces of buildings than 
a few portions of walls, of which they could not understand the 
plan, had been presented; if, however, the investigations of these 
travelers produced few immediate results, the first-named cer¬ 
tainly has the merit of being the first to break the ground, and 
by his intelligence, to have awakened the enterprise of others. 
Rich, who was the East India Company’s resident at Baghdad, 
employed his leisure in the investigation of the antiquities of 
Assyria. He gave his first attention to Babylon, on which he 
wrote a paper, originally published in Germany—his countrymen 
apparently taking less interest in such matters than did the schol¬ 
ars of Vienna. In a note to a second memoir on Babylon, printed 
in London in 1818, we find Nineveh thus alluded to by Rich. He 
says: “ Opposite the town of Mosul is an enclosure of rectangular 
form, corresponding with the cardinal points of the compass; the 
eastern and western sides being the longest, the latter facing the 
river. The area, which is now cultivated, and offers no vestiges 
of building, is too small to have contained a town larger than 
Mosul, but it may be supposed to answer to the palace of Nin- 



426 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


eveh. The boundary, which may be perfectly traced all round, 
now looks like an embankment of earth or rubbish, of small ele¬ 
vation; and has attached to it, and in its line, at several places, 
mounds of greater size and solidity. The first of these forms the 
southwest angle, and on it is built the village of Nebbi Younis, 
the prophet’s tomb (described and delineated by Niebuhr as Nur- 
ica), where they show the tomb of the prophet Jonah, much re¬ 
vered by the Mohammedans. The next, and largest of all, is 
the one which may be supposed to be the monument of Ninus. 
It is situated near the centre of the western face of the enclosure, 
and is joined like the others by the boundary wall;—the natives 
call it Kouyunjik Tepe. Its form is that of a truncated pyramid, 
with regular steep sides and a fiat top; it is composed, as I ascer¬ 
tained from some excavations, of stones and earth, the latter pre¬ 
dominating sufficiently to admit of the summit being cultivated 
by the inhabitants of the village of Kouyunjik, which is built on 
it at the northeast extremity. The only means I had, at the 
time I visited it, of ascertaining its dimensions, was by a cord 
which I procured from Mosul. This gave 178 feet for the 
greatest height, 1,850 feet for the length of the summit east and 
west, and 1,147 f° r its breadth north and south. 

This mound has revealed the grandest and most stupendous 
remains of ancient Neneveh. Within the boundaries of ancient 
walls there are many mounds and elevations. All of them are 
artificial and are caused by the remains of the ancient structures. 
Mound Nimroud is about four miles in circumference at its base, 
on the top of which is a great pyramid mound 777 feet in cir¬ 
cumference and 144^ feet high. 

M. Botta distinctly traced the walls of an enclosure forming 
nearly a perfect square, two sides of which are 5,750 feet, the 
other 5,400, or rather more than a mile each way, all the four 
angles being right angles, which face the cardinal points. M. 
Botta commenced researches in the mound of Kouyunjik in 





























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































428 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


1842, and, meeting with little success, he abandoned his excava¬ 
tions in the following year. 

Layard, in 1846, opened some trenches in the southern face 
of the mound, but, at that time, without any important results. 
At a subsequent period he made some inquiries respecting the 
bas-relief described by Rich, and the spot where it was discov¬ 
ered having been pointed out to him in the northern group of 
ruins, he opened trenches, but, not finding any traces of sculp¬ 
tures, discontinued his operations. 

Upon completing his labors at Nimroud, in 1847, Layard 
determined on making some farther researches at Kouyunjik. 
He commenced at the southwestern corner, and not only dis¬ 
covered the remains of a palace, which had been destroyed by 
fire, but, within the short space of a month, had explored nine 
of its chambers. All the chambers were long and narrow, and 
the walls lined with bas-reliefs of larger size than most of those 
he had found at Nimroud. The slabs were not divided by bands 
of inscription, but were covered with figures scattered promiscu¬ 
ously over the entire surface, all the details being carefully and 
delicately executed. The winged human-headed bulls at the 
entrances resembled those found at Khorsabad and Persepolis in 
the forms of the head-dress, and feathered cap; and the costumes 
of the figures in general were also like those found at Khorsabad. 
The period of the palace was conjectured to be between those of 
Khorsabad and Nimroud. After Mr. Layard had left Mosul, 
Mr. Ross continued the excavations, and discovered several ad¬ 
ditional bas-reliefs—an entrance, which had been formed of four 
sphinxes, and a very large square slab, which he conjectured to 
be a dais or altar, like that found at Nimroud. 

Here he found a chamber lined with sculptured slabs, 
divided, like those of Khorsabad and Nimroud, by bands of 
inscription. He also found, at the foot of the mound, a monu¬ 
ment about three feet high, and rounded at the top, containing a 



EXCAVATIONS AT KOUYUNJIK PALACE. 


4 2 9 

figure with a long cuneiform inscription, and above it various 
sacred emblems. When discovered it was supported by brick¬ 
work, and near it was a sarcophagus in baked clay. 

On the departure of Mr. Ross from Mosul the excavations 
were placed under the charge of Mr. Rassam, the English consul, 
with power to employ a small body of men, so as not to entirely 
abandon possession of the spot. 

Layard says: “ During a short period several discoveries of 
the greatest interest and importance were made, both at Kou- 
yunjik and Nimroud. I will first describe the results of the 
excavations in the ruins opposite Mosul. 

“Shortly before my departure for Europe, in 1848, the fore¬ 
part of a human-headed bull of colossal dimensions had been 
uncovered on the east side of the Kouyunjik Palace. This 
sculpture then appeared to form one side of an entrace or door¬ 
way. The excavations had, however, been abandoned before 
any attempt could be made to ascertain the fact. On my return 
a tunnel, nearly 100 feet in length, was opened at right angles 
to the winged bull, but without coming upon any other remains 
but a pavement of square limestone slabs, which continued as far 
as the excavation was carried. 

“ On uncovering the bull, which was still partly buried in the 
rubbish, it was found that adjoining it were other sculptures, and 
that it formed part of an exterior facade. The upper half of 
the slab had been destroyed; upon the lower was part of the 
figure of the Assyrian Hercules strangling the lion, similar to 
that discovered between the bulls in the propylaea of Khorsabad, 
and now in the Louvre. The hinder part of the lion was still 
preserved. The legs, feet, and drapery of the god were in the 
boldest relief, and designed with great truth and vigor. Beyond 
this figure, in the same line, was a second bull. Then came a 
wide portal, guarded by a pair of winged bulls twenty feet long, 
and probably, when entire, more than twenty feet high, and two 


43 ° 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


gigantic winged figures in low relief. Flanking them were two 
smaller figures, one above the other. Beyond this entrance the 
facade was continued by a group similar to that on the opposite 
side by a smaller entrance into the palace and by a wall of sculp¬ 
tured slabs; then all traces of building and sculpture ceased near 
the edsre of a water-worn ravine. 

“ Thus, part of the facade of the southeast side of the palace, 
forming apparently the grand entrance to the edifice, had been 
discovered. Ten colossal bulls, with six human figures of 
gigantic proportions, altogether 180 feet in length, were here 
grouped together. Although the bas-reliefs to the right of the 
entrance had apparently been purposely destroyed with a sharp 
instrument, enough remained to allow me to trace their subject. 
They had represented the conquest of a district, probably part 
of Babylonia, watered by a broad river and wooded with palms, 
spearmen on foot in combat with Assyrian horsemen, castles 
besieged, long lines of prisoners, and beasts of burden carrying 
away the spoil. Amongst various animals brought as tribute to 
the conquerors could be distinguished a lion led by a chain. 
There were no remains whatever of the superstructure which 
once rose above the colossi, guarding this magnificent entrance. 

“ Although the upper part of the winged bulls was de¬ 
stroyed, fortunately the lower part, and, consequently, the 
inscriptions, had been more or less preserved. To this fact we 
owe the recovery of some of the most precious records of the 
ancient world. 

“ On the two great bulls formingthe center entrance was one 
continuous inscription, injured in parts, but still so far preserved 
as to be legible almost throughout. It contained 152 lines. On 
the four bulls of the facade were two inscriptions, one inscrip¬ 
tion being carried over each pair, and the two being precisely of 
the same import. These two different inscriptions complete the 
annals of six years of the reign of Sennacherib, and contain 


Sennacherib’s conquests. 


43 1 


numerous particulars connected with the religion of the Assy¬ 
rians, their gods, their temples, and the erection of their palaces. 
We gather from them that, in the third year of his reign, Sen¬ 
nacherib turned his arms against Merodach-Baladan, king of 
Babylon, whom he entirely defeated, capturing his cities and a 
large amount of spoil. The fourth year appears to have been 
chiefly taken up with expeditions against the inhabitants of the 
mountainous regions to the north and east of Assyria. In the 
fifth he crossed the Euphrates into Syria, the inhabitants of 
which country are called by their familiar Biblical name of Hit- 
tites. He first took possession of Phoenicia, which was aban¬ 
doned by its King Luliya (the Eululaeus of the Greeks). He 
then restored to his throne Padiya, or Padi, king of Ekron, and 
a tributary of Assyria, who had been deposed by his subjects 
and given over to Plezekiah, king of Jerusalem. The king of 
Ethiopia and Egypt sent a powerful army to the assistance of the 
people of Ekron, but it was entirely defeated by Sennacherib, 
who afterwards marched against Hezekiah, probably to punish 
him for having imprisoned Padiya. The inscriptions record 
this expedition, according to the translation of the late Dr. 
Hincks, in the following term:—‘ Hezekiah, king of Judah, who 
had not submitted to my authority, forty-six of his principal 
cities, and fortresses and villages depending upon them, of which 
I took no account, I captured and carried away their spoil. I 
shut up (?) himself within Jerusalem, his capital city. The 
fortified towns, and the rest of his towns, which I spoiled, I 
severed from his country, and gave to the kings of Ascalon, 
Ekron, and Gaza, so as to make his country small. In addition 
to the former tribute imposed upon their countries, I added a 
tribute, the nature of which I fixed.’ The next passage is some¬ 
what illegible, but the substance of it appears to be, that he 
took from Hezekiah the treasure he had collected in Jerusa¬ 
lem, thirty talents of gold and eight hundred talents of silver, 


43 2 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


the treasures of his palace, besides his sons and his daughters, 
and his male and female servants or slaves, and brought them all 
to Nineveh. This city itself, however, he does not pretend to 
have taken. 

“ The translation of this passage by Sir H. Rawlinson varies 
in some particulars from that given in the text. It is as follows: 
‘Because Hezekiah, king of Judah, would not submit to my yoke 
I came up against him, and by force of arms, and by the might 
of my power I took forty-six of his fenced cities; and of the 
smaller towns which were scattered about I took and plundered 
a countless number. And from these places I captured and 
carried off, as spoil, 200,150 people, old and young, male and 
female, together with horses and mares, asses and camels, oxen 
and sheep, a countless multitude. And Hezekiah himself I shut 
up in Jerusalem, his capital city, like a bird in a cage, building 
towers around the city to hem him in, and raising banks of earth 
against the gates, so as to prevent escape. * * * * Then 

upon this Hezekiah there fell the fear of the power of my arms, 
and he sent out to me the chiefs and the elders of Jerusalem 
with thirty talents of gold and eight hundred talents of silver, 
and divers treasures, a rich and immense booty. * * * * 

All these things were brought to me at Nineveh, the seat of my 
government, Hezekiah having sent them by way of tribute, and 
as a token of his submission to my power.’ 

“ There can be no doubt that the campaign against the 
cities of Palestine, recorded in the inscriptions of Sennacherib in 
this palace, is that described in the Old Testament; and it is of 
great interest, therefore, to compare the two accounts, which 
will be found to agree in the principal incidents mentioned to 
a very remarkable extent. In the Second Book of Kings it 
is said—‘ Now, in the fourteenth year of king Hezekiah did 
Sennacherib, king of Assyria, come up against all the fenced 
cities of Judah, and took them. And Hezekiah, king of Judah, 


HIGHLY-FINISHED SCULPTURES. 


433 


sent to the king of Assyria, to Lachish, saying, I have offended; 
return from me; that which thou puttest on me will I bear. 
And the king of Assyria appointed unto Hezekiah three hun¬ 
dred talents of silver and thirty talents of gold. And Hezekiah 
gave him all the silver that was found in the house of the 
Lord and in the treasures of the king’s house. At that time did 
Hezekiah cut off [the gold from] the doors of the temple of the 
Lord, and [from] the pillars which Hezekiah, king of Judah, 
had overlaid, and gave it to the king of Assyria.’ ” 

When Mr. Layard revisited Kouyunjik in 1849, there were 
no vestiges of the sculptured walls discovered two years previ¬ 
ously. The more recent trenches, however, dug under the super¬ 
intendence of Mr. Ross, were still open; and the workmen em¬ 
ployed by direction of the British Museum had run tunnels 
along the walls within the mound, to save the trouble of clearing 
away the soil, which had accumulated to a depth of thirty feet 
above the ruins. Under the direction of Layard, the excavations 
were resumed with great spirit, and before the lapse of many 
weeks, several chambers had been entered, and numerous bas- 
reliefs discovered. One hall, 124 feet by 90 feet, appears, says 
Layard, “ to have formed a center, around which the principal 
chambers in this part of the palace were grouped. Its walls had 
been completely covered with the most elaborate and highly-fin¬ 
ished sculptures. Unfortunately, all the bas-reliefs, as well as the 
gigantic monsters at the entrances, had suffered more or less 
from the fire which had destroyed the edifice; but enough of 
them still remained to show the subject, and even to enable him, 
in many places, to restore it entirely.” 

Continuing his discoveries in the mound, Layard “ opened 
no less than seventy-one halls and chambers, also passages, whose 
walls, almost without an exception, had been paneled with slabs 
of sculptured alabaster, recording the wars, the triumphs, and 
the great deeds of the Assyrian king. By a rough calculation, 
28 


434 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


EXPLANATION OF CUT. 


Va'ses of glass and alabaster engraved with the word Sargon. From Nimroud. 

Vessel of glazed earthenware—, found at Babel. 

Bronze drinking cup ornamented with the head of an animal. 

Lamp of earthenware. 

Stuff woven in patterns of Assyrian style. From relief at Nimroud. 

Table formed of fragments of sculptures found at Nimroud. 


1. 1 Figures from the portal of the palace of Sennacherib, having the forms of 

2. \ winged bulls with human heads, bearing crowns. 

3. King Sennacherib on his throne. A sculpture found at Nimroud, dating from 

the 7th century Before Christ. 

4. A king on the hunt. 

5. The storming of a fortress. In the foreground are two warriors clad in armor, 

helmeted and heavily armed with swords and spears. 

6 . 

7. 

8 . 

9. 

10 . 

11 . 

12 . 

13.1 

i 

14. y Swords. 

15-j 

16. Bent sword. 

17. Double edged ax. 

18. Spear. 

19. Quiver filled with arrows and elaborately sculptured 

20. Bow. 

210 

i 

22. ^Daggers and knife in one case. 

23. J 

24. Helmet. 

25. Round shield such as was borne by foot soldiers. 

26. Breastplate of a knight of high degree. 

27. Parasol found at Nimroud. (Now in British Museum.) 

28. Ear-ring of gold. 

29. -'I 

30. 

gj j- Bracelets of gold. 

32.. 

33. ) 

[ Diadems. 

34. ) 

35. Wall painting representing lions. 

about 9,880 feet, or nearly two miles of bas-reliefs, with twenty- 
seven portals formed by colossal winged bulls and lion sphinxes, 
were uncovered in that part alone of the building explored during 
his lesearches. The cut on page 435 shows some of them. 






DISCOVERED IN THE PALACE 


435 


















































































































































































































































































































43 6 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


The greatest length of the excavations was about 720 feet, the 
greatest breadth about 600 feet. The pavement of the cham¬ 
bers was from twenty to 
mound. The measurements merely include that part of the 
palace actually excavated.” 

Most of the sculptures discovered in this hall and group of 
chambers have been deposited in the British Museum. 

For the more recent collection of sculptures which have been 
brought to light, we are indebted to Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, a 
native of Mosul, and a friend and colleague of Layard; and to 
Mr. William Kennet Loftus, the agent of the Assyrian excava¬ 
tion fund. In 1852, Mr. Rassam was appointed by the Trustees 
of the British Museum to take charge of the excavations at Nin¬ 
eveh. For more than a year his researches were nearly fruitless, 
when, at length, just as his appointment was about to terminate, 
he turned again to a previously-abandoned trench in the north side 
of the mound, and was almost immediately rewarded by the dis¬ 
covery of numerous chambers and passages, covered with a vari¬ 
ety of bas-reliefs in an excellent state of preservation, having suf¬ 
fered less injury from fire than those of the other palaces. In one 
room was a lion hunt, in a continuous series of twenty-three slabs, 
with but one interval. The other slabs represented exteriors of 
palaces, gardens, battles, sieges, processions, etc., the whole form¬ 
ing the decorations of what must have been a splendid palace. 

Subsequently, in 1854, at the instance of Sir Henry Rawlin- 
son, Mr. Loftus and his coadjutor, Mr. Boutcher, transferred their 
operations from South Babylonia to Nineveh. At first Mr. 
Loftus’ excavations were unsuccessful, but about the beginning 
of August he discovered the remains of a building on a level 
twenty feet lower than the palace that Mr. Rassam was exploring, 
and which proved to be a lower terrace of the same building, 
even more highly elaborated and in better preservation than those 
previously discovered in the ruins. At the entrance of an ascend- 


thirty-nve feet below the surface of the 


NORTH PALACE, KOUYUNJIK. 


437 


* 

ing passage there was also found a “mass of solid masonry—appar¬ 
ently the pier of an arch—the springing of which is formed by 
projecting horizontal layers of limestone.” 

Mr. Loftus, in his Report of the 9th of October, observes: 
“The excavations'carried on at the western angle of the North 
Palace, Kouyunjik, continue to reveal many interesting and im¬ 
portant facts, and to determine several points which were previ¬ 
ously doubtful. 

“ 1. The existence of an outer basement wall of roughly 
cut stone blocks, supporting a mud wall, upon which white plaster 
still remains, and from which painted bricks have fallen. 2. At 
the corner of the palace, and at a considerable distance from the 
principal chambers, is an entrance hall, with column bases, pre¬ 
cisely as we see them represented in the sculptures. 3. Above 
this entrance hall and its adjoining chambers, there was formerly 
another story, the first upper rooms yet discovered in Assyria. 
This, with its sculptured slabs, has fallen into the rooms below. 
4. The various sculptures here disinterred are the works of four, 
if not five, different artists, whose styles are distinctly visible. It 
is evident that this portion of the edifice has been willfully de¬ 
stroyed, the woodwork burned, and the slabs broken to pieces. 
The faces of all the principal figures are slightly injured by blows 
of the ax.” 

This highly interesting series of bas-reliefs, which has now 
been placed in a lower chamber in the British Museum, conse¬ 
quently represents the siege and capture of Lachish, as described 
in the Second Book of Kings, and in the inscriptions on the human¬ 
headed bulls. Sennacherib himself is seen seated on his throne, 
and receiving the submission of the inhabitants ot the city, whilst 
he had sent his generals to demand the tribute of payment from 
Hezekiah. The defenders of the castle walls and the prisoners 
tortured and crouching at the conqueror’s feet are Jews, and the 
sculptor has evidently endeavored to indicate the peculiar physi¬ 
ognomy of the race, and the dress of the people. 




43 s 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


The value of this discovery can scarcely be overrated. 
Whilst we have thus the representations of an event recorded in 
the Old Testament, of which consequently these bas-reliefs furnish 
a most interesting and important illustration, they serve to a cer¬ 
tain extent to test the accuracy of the interpretation of the cunei¬ 
form inscriptions, and to remove any doubt that might still exist 
as to the identification of the King who built the palace on the 
mound of Kouyunjik with the Sennacherib of Scripture. Had 
these bas-reliefs been the only remains dug up from the ruins of 
Nineveh, the labor of the explorer would have been amply re¬ 
warded, and the sum expended by the nation on the excavations 
more than justified. The)’ furnish, together with the inscriptions 
which they illustrate, and which are also now deposited in the na¬ 
tional collection, the most valuable cotemporary historical record 
possessed by any museum in the world. They may be said to be 
the actual manuscript, caused to be written or carved by the prin¬ 
cipal actor in the events which it relates. Who would have be¬ 
lieved it probable or possible, before these discoveries were made, 
that beneath the heap of earth and rubbish which marked the 
site of Nineveh, there would be found the history of the wars 
between Hezekiah and Sennacherib, written at the very time 
when they took place by Sennacherib himself and confirming even 
in minute details the Biblical record? He who would have ven¬ 
tured to predict such a discovery would have been treated as a 
dreamer or an impostor. Had it been known that such a monu¬ 
ment really existed, what sum would have been considered too 
great for the precious record ? 

A few remarks are necessary on the architecture and archi¬ 
tectural decorations, external and internal of the Assyrian pal¬ 
aces. The inscriptions on their walls, especially on those of 
Kouyunjik and Khorsabad, appear to contain important and even 
minute details not only as to their general plan and mode of 
construction, but even as to the materials employed for their differ- 


TEMPLE OF SOLOMON. 


439 


ent parts, and for the objects of sculpture and ornaments placed 
in them. (Capt. Jones calculated that the mound of Kouyunjik con¬ 
tains 14,500,000 tons of earth, and that its construction would 
have taken 10,000 men for twelve years.) This fact furnishes 
another remarkable analogy between the records of the Jewish 
and Assyrian kings. To the history of their monarchs and of 
their nation, the Hebrew chroniclers have added a full account of 
the building and ornaments of the temple and palaces of Solomon. 
In both cases, from the use of technical words, we can scarcely 
hope to understand, with any degree of certainty, all the details. 
It is impossible to comprehend, by the help of the description 
alone, the plan or appearance of the temple of Solomon. This 
arises not only from our being unacquainted with the exact mean¬ 
ing of various Hebrew architectural terms, but also from the dif¬ 
ficulty experienced even in ordinary cases, of restoring from mere 
description an edifice of any kind. In the Assyrian inscriptions 
we labor, of course, under still greater disadvantages. The lan¬ 
guage in which they were written is as yet but very imperfectly 
known, and although we may be able to explain with some con¬ 
fidence the general meaning of the historical paragraphs, yet 
when we come to technical words relating to architecture, even 
with a very intimate acquaintance with the Assyrian tongue, we 
could scarcely hope to ascertain their precise signification. On 
the other hand, the materials, and the general plan of the Assy¬ 
rian palaces are still preserved, whilst of the great edifices of the 
Jews, not a fragment of masonry, nor the smallest traces, are prob¬ 
ably left to guide us. But, as Mr. Fergusson has shown, the archi¬ 
tecture of the one people may be illustrated by that of the other. 
With the help of the sacred books, and of the ruins of the palaces 
of Nineveh, together with those of cotemporary and after remains, 
as well as from customs still existing in the East, we may, to a 
certain extent, ascertain the principal architectural features of the 
buildings of both nations. 


440 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


Before suggesting a general restoration ol the royal edifices 
of Nineveh, we shall endeavor to point out the analogies which 
appear to exist between their actual remains and what is re¬ 
corded of the temple and palaces of Solomon. In the first place, 
as Sennacherib in his inscriptions declares himself to have done, 
the Jewish king sent the bearers of burdens and the hewers into 
the mountains to bring great stones, costly stones, and hewed 
stones, to lay the foundations, which were probably artificial 
platforms, resembling the Assyrian mounds, though constructed 
of more solid materials. We have the remains of such a terrace 
or stage of stone masonry, perhaps built by King Solomon him¬ 
self, at Baalbec. The enormous size of some of the hewn stones 
in that structure, and of those still remaining in the quarries, 
some of which are more than sixty feet long, has excited the 
wonder of modern travelers. The dimensions of the temple of 
Jerusalem, threescore cubits long, twenty broad, and thirty high, 
were much smaller than those of the great edifices explored in 
Assyria. Solomon's own palace, however, appears to have been 
considerably larger, and to have more nearly approached in its 
proportions those of the kings of Nineveh, for it was one hun¬ 
dred cubits long, fifty broad and thirty high. u The porch 
before the temple,” twenty cubits by ten, may have been a 
propylseum, such as was discovered at Khorsabad in front of the 
palace. The chambers, with the exception of the oracle, were 
exceedingly small, the largest being only seven cubits broad, 
“ for without, in the wall of the house, he made numerous rests 
round about, that the beams should not be fastened in the walls 

of the house.” The words in italics are inserted in our version 

• 

to make good the sense, and may consequently not convey the 
exact meaning, which may be, that these apartments were thus, 
narrow in order that the beams might be supported without the 
use of pillars, a reason already suggested for the narrowness of 
the greater number of chambers in the Assyrian palaces. These 


THE ORACLE. 


44 1 


smaller rooms appear to have been built round a large central 
hall called the oracle, the whole arrangement thus corresponding 
with the courts, halls, and surrounding rooms at Nimroud, Khor- 
sabad, and Kouyunjik. The oracle was twenty cubits square, 
smaller far in dimensions than the Nineveh halls; but it was 
twenty cubits high —an important fact, illustrative of Assyrian 
architecture, for as the building itself was thirty cubits in height 
the oracle must not only have been much loftier than the adjoin¬ 
ing chambers, but must have had an upper structure of ten 
cubits. Within it were the two cherubim of olive wood ten 
cubits high, with wings each five cubits long—“and he carved 
all the house around with carved figures of cherubim and palm 
trees, and open flowers, within and without . 11 The cherubim 
have been described by Biblical commentators as mythic figures, 
uniting the human head with the body of a lion, or an ox, and 
the wings of an eagle. If for the palm trees we substitute the 
sacred trees of the Nineveh sculptures, and for the open flowers 
the Assyrian tulip-shaped ornament—objects most probably very 
nearly resembling each other—we find that the oracle of the 
temple was almost identical, in the general form of its ornaments, 
with some of the chambers of Nimroud and Khorsabad. In the 
Assyrian halls, too, the winged human-headed bulls were on the 
side of the wall, and their wings, like those of the cherubim, 
“ touched one another in the midst of the house . 11 The dimen¬ 
sions of these figures were in some cases nearly the same in the 
Jewish and Assyrian temples, namely, fifteen feet square. The 
doors were also carved with cherubim and palm trees, and open 
flowers; and thus, with the other parts of the building, corres¬ 
ponded with those of the Assyrian palaces. On the walls at 
Nineveh the only addition appears to have been the introduction 
of the human form and the image of the king, which were an 
abomination to the Jews. The pomegranates and lilies of Solo¬ 
mon’s temple must have been nearly identical with the usual 





44 2 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


Assyrian ornament, in which, and particularly at Khorsabad, the 
promegranate frequently takes the place of the tulip and the cune. 

But the description given by Josephus of the interior of one 
of Solomon’s houses still more completely corresponds with and 
illustrates the chambers in the palaces of Nineveh. “ Solomon 
built some of these (houses) with stones of ten cubits, and wain¬ 
scoted the walls with other stones that were sawed, and were of 
great value, such as were dug out of the bowels of the earth, for 
ornaments of temples,” etc. The arrangement of the curious 
workmanship of these stones was in three rows; but the fourth 
was pre-eminent for the beauty of its sculpture, for on it were 
represented trees and all sorts of plants, with the shadows caused 
by their branches and the leaves that hung down from them. 
These trees and plants covered the stone that was beneath them, 
and their leaves were wrought so wonderfully thin and subtle 
that they appeared almost in motion; but the rest of the wall, 
up to the roof, was plastered over, and, as it were, wrought over 
with various colors and pictures. 

To complete the analogy between the two edifices, it would 
appear that Solomon was seven years building his temple, and 
Sennacherib about the same time in erecting his great palace at 
Kouyunjik. 

The ceiling, roof, and beams of the Jewish temple were of 
cedar wood. The discoveries of the ruins at Nimroud show 
that the same precious wood was used in Assyrian edifices; and 
the king of Nineveh, as we learn from the inscriptions, sent men, 
precisely as Solomon had done, to cut it in Mount Lebanon. 
Fir was also employed in the Jewish buildings, and probably in 
those of Assyria. 

In order to understand the proposed restoration of the palace 
at Kouyunjik from the existing remains, the reader must refer to 
the cut, on page 427, of the excavated ruins. It will be re¬ 
membered that the building does not face the cardinal points of 


DESCRIPTION OF THE PALACE. 


443 


the compass. We will, however, assume, for convenience sake, 
that it stands due north and south. To the south, therefore, it 
immediately overlooked the Tigris; and on that side rose one of 
the principal facades. The edifice must have stood on the very 
edge of the platform, the foot of which was at that time washed 
by the river, which had five massive staircases leading to the 
river. Although from the fact of there having been a grand 
entrance to the palace on the east side, it is highly probable that 
some such approach once existed on the west side, yet no re¬ 
mains whatever of it have been discovered. The northern 
facade, like the southern, was formed by five pairs of human¬ 
headed bulls, and numerous colossal figures, forming three dis¬ 
tinct gateways. 

* 

The principal approach to the palace appears, however, to 
have been on the eastern side, where the great bulls bearing the 
annals of Sennacherib were discovered. In the cut we have 
been able, by the assistance of Mr. Fergusson, to give a restora¬ 
tion of this magnificent palace and entrances. Inclined ways, or 
broad flights of steps, appear to have led up to it from the foot 
of the platform, and the remains of them, consisting of huge 
squared stones, are still in the ravines, which are but ancient 
ascents, deepened by the winter rains of centuries. From this 
grand entrance direct access could be had to all the principal 
halls and chambers in the palace; that on the western face, as 
appears from the ruins, only opened into a set of eight rooms 

The chambers hitherto explored appear to have been 
grouped round three great courts or halls. It must be borne 
in mind, however, that the palace extends considerably to the 
northeast of the grand entrance, and that there may have been 
another hall, and similar dependent chambers in that part of the 
edifice. Only a part of the palace has been hitherto excavated, 
and we are not, consequently, in possession of a perfect ground- 
plan of it. 


444 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


The general arrangement of the chambers at Kouyunjik is 
similar to that at Khorsabad, though the extent of the building 
is very much greater. The Khorsabad mound falls gradually to 
the level of the plain, and there are the remains of a succession 
of broad terraces or stages. Parts of the palace, such as the 
propyl sea, were actually beneath the platform, and stood at some 
distance from it in the midst of the walled enclosure. At Kou¬ 
yunjik, however, the whole of the royal edifice, with its de¬ 
pendent buildings, appears to have stood on the summit of the 
artificial mound, whose lofty perpendicular sides could only have 
been accessible by steps, or inclined ways. No propylsea, or 
other edifices connected with the palace, have as yet been dis¬ 
covered below the platform. 

The inscriptions, it is said, refer to four distinct parts of the 
palace, three of which, inhabited by the women, seem subse¬ 
quently to have been reduced to one. It is not clear whether 
they were all on the ground-floor, or whether they formed differ¬ 
ent stories. Mr. Fergusson, in his ingenious work on the restora¬ 
tion of the palaces of Nineveh, in which he has, with great 
learning and research, fully examined the subject of the architec¬ 
ture of the Assyrians and ancient Persians, endeavors to divide 
the Khorsabad palace, after the manner of modern Mussulman 
houses, into the Salamlik or apartments of the men, and the 
Harem, or those of the women. The division he suggests must, 
of course, depend upon analogy and conjecture; but it may, we 
think, be accepted as highly probable, until fuller and more 
accurate translations of the inscriptions than can yet be made 
may furnish us with some positive data on the subject. In the 
ruins of Kouyunjik there is nothing, as far as we are aware, to 
mark the distinction between the male and female apartments. 
Of a temple no remains have as yet been found at Kouyunjik, 
nor is there any high conical mound as at Nimroud and Khor¬ 
sabad. 


VIEW OF A ITALL. 

(Of which 71 were discovered iii the Palace.) 445 























































































































































































NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


446 

In all the Assyrian edifices hitherto explored we find the 
same general plan. On the four sides ot the great courts or halls 
are two or three narrow parallel chambers opening one into the 
other. Most of them have doorways at each end leading into 
smaller rooms, which have no other outlet. It seems highly prob¬ 
able that this uniform plan was adopted with reference to the pe¬ 
culiar architectural arrangements required by the building, and 
we agree with Mr. Fergusson in attributing it to the mode 
resorted to for lighting the apartments. 

Early excavators expressed a belief that the chambers 
received light from the top. Although this may have been the 
case in some instances, yet recent discoveries now prove that the 
Assyrian palaces had more than one story. Such being the case, 
it is evident that other means must have been adopted to admit 
light to the inner rooms on the ground-floor. Mr. Fergussoffis 
suggestion, that the upper part of the halls and principal chambers 
was formed by a row of pillars supporting the ceiling and admit- 
ing a free circulation of light and air, appears to us to meet, to 
a certain extent, the difficulty. It has, moreover, been borne out 
by subsequent discoveries, and by the representation of a large 
building, apparently a palace, on one side of the bas-reliefs from 
Kouyunjik. 

Although the larger halls may have been lighted in this 
manner, yet the inner chambers must have remained in almost 
entire darkness. And it is not improbable that such was the case, 
to judge Irom modern Eastern houses, in which the rooms are 
purposely kept dark to mitigate the great heat. The sculptures 
and decorations in them could then only be properly seen by 
torchlight. The great courts were probably open to the sky, like 
the courts of the modern houses of Mosul, whose walls are also 
adorned with sculptured alabaster. The roofs of the large halls 
must have been supported by pillars of wood or brick work. It 
may be conjectured that there were two or three stories of cham- 


MODERN HOUSES OF PERSIA. 


447 


bers opening into them, either by columns or by windows. Such 
appears to have, been the case in Solomon’s temple; for Josephus 
tells us that the great inner sanctuary was surrounded by small 
rooms, “ over these rooms were other rooms, and others above 
them, equal both in their measure and numbers, and these reached 
to a height equal to the lower fart of the house, for the upper 
had no buildings about it.” We have also a similar arrangement 
of chambers in the modern, houses of Persia, in which a lofty cen¬ 
tral hall, called the I wan, of the entire height of the building, 
has small rooms in two or three separate stories opening by win¬ 
dows into it, whilst the inner -chambers have no windows at all, 
and only receive light through the door. Sometimes these side 
chambers open into a center court, as we have suggested may 
have been the case in the Nineveh palaces, and then a projecting 
roof of woodwork protects the carved and painted walls from 
injury by the weather. Curtains and awnings were no doubt 
suspended above the windows and entrances in the Assyrian pal¬ 
aces to ward off the rays of the sun. 

Although the remains of pillars have hitherto been discov¬ 
ered in the Assyrian ruins, we now think it highly probable, as 
suggested by Mr. Fergusson, that they were used to support the 
roof. The modern Yezidi house, in the Sinjar, is a good illustra¬ 
tion not only of this mode of supporting the ceiling, but of the 
manner in which light may have been admitted into the side 
chambers. It is curious, however, that no stone pedestals, upon 
which wooden columns may have rested, have been found in the 
ruins; nor have marks of them been found on the pavement. We 
can scarcely account for the entire absence of all such traces. 
However, unless some support of this kind were resorted to, it is 
impossible that the larger halls at Kouyunjik could have been 
covered in, The great hall, or house, as it is rendered in the Bible, 
of the forest of Lebanon was thirty cubits high, upon four rows 
of cedar pillars with cedar beams upon the pillars. The Assy- 


448 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


rian kings, as we have seen, cut wood in the same forests as King 
Solomon; and probably used it for the same purposes, namely, 
for pillars, beams and ceilings. The dimensions of this hall, ioo 
cubits (about 150 feet) by 50 cubits (75 feet), very much resem¬ 
ble those of the center halls of the palaces of Nineveh. “The 
porch of pillars” was fifty cubits in length; equal, therefore, to 
the breadth of the hall, of which, we presume, it was a kind of 
inclosed space at the upper end, whilst “the porch for the throne 
where he might judge, even the porch of judgment * * * * 

covered with cedar wood from one side of the floor to the other,” 
was probably a raised place within it, corresponding with a sim¬ 
ilar platform where the host and guests of honor are seated in a 
modern Eastern house. Supposing the three parts of the building 
to have been arranged as we have suggested, we should have an 
exact counterpart of them in the hall of audience of the Persian 
palaces. The upper part of the magnificent hall in which we 
have frequently seen the governor of Isfahan, was divided from 
the lower part by columns, and his throne was a raised place of 
carved headwork adorned with rich stuffs, ivory, and other pre¬ 
cious materials. Suppliants and attendants stood outside the line 
of pillars, and the officers of the court within. Such also may 
have been the interior arrangements of the great halls in the 
Assyrian edifices. 

We have already described the interior decorations of the 
Assyrian palaces, and have little more to add upon the subject. 
The walls of Kouyunjik were more elaborately decorated than 
those of Nimroud and Khorsabad. Almost every chamber ex¬ 
plored there, and they amounted to about seventy, was paneled 
with alabaster slabs carved with numerous figures and with the 
minuest details. Each room appears to have been dedicated to 
some particular event, and in each, apparently, was the image of 
the king himself. In fact, the walls recorded in sculpture what 
the inscriptions did in writing—the great deeds of Sennacherib in 



CHAMBERS IN THE PALACE. 


449 


peace as well as in war. It will be remarked that, whilst in other 
Assyrian edifices the king is frequently represented taking an 
active part in war, slaying his enemies, and fighting beneath a 
besieged city, Sennacherib is never represented at Kouvunjik 
otherwise than in an attitude of triumph, in his chariot or on his 
throne, receiving the captives and the spoil. Nor is he ever 
seen torturing his prisoners, or putting them to death with his 
own hand. 

There were chambers, however, in the palace of Sennacherib, 
as well as in those at Nimroud and Khorsabad, whose walls were 
simply coated with plaster, like the walls of Belshazzar’s palace 
at Babylon. Some were probably richly ornamented in color 
with figures of men and animals, as well as with elegant designs; 
or others may have been paneled with cedar wainscoting, as the 
chambers in the temple and palaces of Solomon, and in the royal 
edifices of Babylon. Gilding, too, appears to have been exten¬ 
sively used in decoration, and some of the great sphinxes may 
have been overlaid with gold, like the cherubim in Solomon’s tem¬ 
ple. The cut on page 445 gives a beautiful representation of 
the interior of the palaces. It is taken from the halls of the 
palace of Sennacherib. 

At Kouyunjik, the pavement slabs were not inscribed as at 
Nimroud; but those between the winged bulls, at some of the 
entrances, were carved with an elaborate and very elegant pattern. 
The doors were probably of wood, gilt, and adorned with pre¬ 
cious materials, like the gates of the temple of Jerusalem, and 
their hinges appear to have turned in stone sockets, some of 
which were found in the ruins. To ward off the glare of an 
Eastern sun, hangings or curtains, of gay colors and of rich mate¬ 
rials, were probably suspended to the pillars supporting the ceil¬ 
ing, or to wooden poles raised for the purpose, as in the palaces 
of Babylon and Shushan. 

Layard’s researches have satisfied him that a very consider- 

2 9 


45° 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


able period elapsed between the earliest and latest buildings dis¬ 
covered among; the mounds of Nimroud. We incline to this 
opinion, but differ from the surmise that the ruins of Nimroud 
and the site of Nineveh itself are identical. The dimensions of 
Nineveh, as given by Diodorus Siculus, were 150 stadia on the 
two longest sides of the quadrangle, and 90 on the opposite; the 
square being 480 stadia, 60 miles; or, according to some, 74 
miles. Layard thinks, that by taking the four great mounds of 
Nimroud, Kouyunjik, Khorsabad and Karamles, as the corners 
of a square, the four sides will correspond pretty accurately with 
the 60 miles of the geographer, and the three days’ journey of 
the prophet Jonah. 

The parallelogram, or line of boundary, being thus com¬ 
pleted^ we have now to ascertain how far it accords with the 
localities of the researches; and we find that it not only compre¬ 
hends the principal mounds which have already been examined,, 
but many others, in which ruins are either actually, or almost cer¬ 
tainly, known to exist. Another important object of remark 
connected with this subject, is the thickness of the wall surround¬ 
ing the palace of Khorsabad, which Botta states to be fifteen, 
metres, i. e., forty-eight feet, nine inches, a very close approxima¬ 
tion to the width of the wall of the city itself, which was “ so 
broad as that three chariots might be driven upon it abreast.” 
This is about half the thickness of the wall of Babylon, upon 
which “six chariots could be driven together,” and which Hero¬ 
dotus tells were eighty-seven feet broad, or nearly double that of 
Khorsabad. The extraordinary dimensions of the walls of cities 
is supported by these remains at Khorsabad. The Median wall,, 
still existing, in part nearly entire, and which crosses obliquely the 
plain of Mesopotamia from the Tigris to the banks of the 
Euphrates, a distance of forty miles, is another example. The 
great wall of China, also, of like antiquity, we are told, “traverses, 
high mountains, deep valleys, and, by means of arches, wide. 


THE WALLS. 


45 1 


rivers, extending from the province of Shen Si to Wanghay, or 
the Yellow Sea, a distance of 1,500 miles. In some places, to 
protect exposed passages, it is double and treble. The foundation 
and corner stones are of granite, but the principal part is of blue 
bricks, cemented with pure white mortar. At distances of about 
200 paces are distributed square towers or strong bulwarks.” 
In less ancient times, the Roman walls in our own country supply 
additional proof of the universality of this mode of enclosing a 
district or guarding a boundary before society was established on 
a firm basis. It may be objected against the foregoing specula¬ 
tions on the boundary of Nineveh, that the river runs within the 
walls instead of on the outside. In reply, we submit that when the 
walls were destroyed, as described by the historian, the flooded 
river would force for itself another channel, which in process of 
time would become more and more devious from the obstructions 
offered by the accumulated ruins, until it eventually took the 
channel in which it now flows. 

Babylon was the most 'beautiful and the richest city in the 
world. Even to our age, it stands as a marvel. It was built 
about 3,000 years ago, but did not reach the summit of its mag¬ 
nificence until about 570 years Before Christ, when Nebuchad¬ 
nezzar lavished almost an endless amount of wealth upon it. 

Its magnitude was 480 furlongs, or sixty miles, in compass. 
It was built in an exact square of fifteen miles on each side, and 
was surrounded by a brick wall eighty-seven feet thick and 
350 feet high, on which were 250 towers, or, according to some 
writers, 316. The top of the wall was wide enough to allow six 
chariots to drive abreast. The materials for building the wall 
were dug from a vast ditch or moat, which was also walled up 
with brickwork and then filled with water from the River 
Euphrates. This moat was just outside of the walls, and sur¬ 
rounded the city as another strong defence. 

The city had 100 brass gates, one at the end of each of its 


45 2 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


fifty streets. The streets were 150 feet wide and ran at right 
angles through the city, thus forming 676 great squares. Her¬ 
odotus says besides this there was yet another wall which ran 
around within, not much inferior to the other, yet narrower, and 
the city was divided into two equal parts by the River Euphrates, 
over which was a bridge, and at each , end of the bridge was a 
palace. These palaces had communication with each other by a 
subterranean passage. 

To prevent the city from suffering from an overflow of the 
river during the summer months, immense embankments were 
raised on either side, with canals to turn the flood waters of the 
Tigris. On the western side of the city an artificial lake was 
excavated forty miles square, or 160 miles in circumference, and 
dug out, according to Megasthenes, seventy-five feet deep, into 
which the river was turned when any repairs were to be made, 
or for a surplus of water, in case the river should be cut off 
from them. 

Near to the old palace stood the Tower of Babel. This 
prodigious pile consisted of eight towers, each seventy-five feet 
high, rising one upon another, with an outside winding stair¬ 
case to its summit, which, with its chapel on the top, reached a 
height of 660 feet. On this summit is where the chapel of Belus 
was erected, which contained probably the most expensive furni¬ 
ture of any in the world. One golden image forty feet high was 
valued at $17,500,000, and the whole of the sacred utensils were 
reckoned to be worth $200,000,000. There are still other won¬ 
derful things mentioned. One, the subterraneous banqueting 
rooms, which were made under the River Euphrates and were 
constructed entirely of brass; and then, as one of the seven won¬ 
ders of the world, were the famous hanging gardens; they were 
400 feet square and were raised 350 feet high, one terrace above 
the other, and were ascended by a staircase ten feet wide. The 
terraces were supported by large vaultings resting upon curb- 


GRANDEUR OF BABYLON. 


453 


shaped pillars and were hollow and filled with earth, to allow 
ttees ot the largest size to be planted, the whole being con¬ 
structed of baked bricks and asphalt. The entire structure was 
strengthened and bound together by a wall twenty-two feet in 
thickness. The level ot the terrace was covered with laro*e 
stones, over which was a bed of rushes, then a thick layer of 
asphalt, next two courses ot bricks likewise cemented with as¬ 
phalt, and finally plates of lead to prevent leakage, the earth 
being heaped on the platform and terrace and large trees 
planted. The whole had the appearance from a distance of woods 
overhanging mountains. 

The great work is affirmed to have been effected by Neb¬ 
uchadnezzar to gratify his wife, Anytis, daughter of Astyages, 
who retained strong predilection for the hills and groves which 
abounded in her native Media. 

Babylon flourished for nearly 200 years in this scale of 
grandeur, during which idolatry, pride, cruelty, and every abom¬ 
ination prevailed among all ranks of the people, when God, by 
His prophet, pronounced its utter ruin, which was accord¬ 
ingly accomplished, commencing with Cyrus taking the city, 
after a siege of two years, in the year 588 Before Christ, to 
emancipate the Jews, as foretold by the prophets. By successive 
overthrows this once u Glory of the Chaldees’ Excellency,” this 
u Lady of Kingdoms,” has become a u desolation ” without an 
inhabitant, and its temple a vast heap of rubbish. 

The ancient Tower of Babel is now a mound of oblong 
form, the total circumference of which is 2,286 feet. At the east¬ 
ern side it is cloven by a deep furrow and is not more than fifty 
or sixty feet high, but on the western side it rises in a conical 
figure to the elevation of 198 feet, and on its summit is a solid 
pile of brick thirty-seven feet in height and twenty-eight in 
breadth, diminishing in thickness to the top, which is broken 
and irregular and rent by large fissures extending through a 
third of its height; it is perforated with small holes. 


454 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


The fire-burnt bricks of which it is built have inscriptions 
on them, and so excellent is the cement, which appears to be 
lime mortar, that it is nearly impossible to extract one whole. 
The other parts of the summit of this hill are occupied by im¬ 
mense fragments of brickwork of no determinate figure, tumbled 
together and converted into solid vitrified masses, as if they had 
undergone the action of the fiercest fire, or had been blown up 
by gunpowder, the layers of brick being perfectly discernible. 
These ruins surely proclaim the divinity of the Scriptures. Lay- 
ard says the discoveries amongst the ruins of ancient Babylon 
were far less numerous and important than could have been antic¬ 
ipated. No sculptures or inscribed slabs, the paneling of the 
walls of palaces, appear to exist beneath them, as in those of 
Nineveh. Scarcely a detached figure in stone, or a solitary tab¬ 
let, has been dug out of the vast heaps of rubbish. u Babylon is 
fallen, is fallen; and all the graven images of her gods he hath 
broken unto the ground.” (Isaiah xxi. 9.) 

The complete absence of such remains is to be explained by 
the nature of the materials used in the erection of even the most 
costly edifices of Babylon. In the vicinity there were no quar¬ 
ries of alabaster, or of limestone, such as existed near Nineveh. 
The city was built in the midst of an alluvial country, far re¬ 
moved from the hills. The deposits of the might} 7 rivers which 
have gradually formed the Mesopotamian plains consist of a rich 
clay. Consequently stone for building purposes could only be 
obtained from a distance. The black basalt, a favorite material 
amongst the Babylonians for carving detached figures, and 
for architectural ornaments, as appears from fragments found 
amongst the ruins, came from the Kurdish Mountains, or from 
the north of Mesopotamia. 

The Babylonians were content to avail themselves of the 
building materials which they found on the spot. With the tena¬ 
cious mud of their alluvial plains, mixed with chopped straw, 


BUILDING MATERIALS. 


455 


they made bricks, whilst bitumen and other substances collected 
from the immediate neighborhood furnished them with an excel¬ 
lent cement. A knowledge of the art of manufacturing glaze, 
and colors, enabled them to cover their bricks with a rich 
enamel, thereby rendering them equally ornamental for the 
exterior and interior of their edifices. The walls of their 
palaces and temples were also coated, as we learn from several 
passages in the Bible, with mortar and plaster, which, judging 

from their cement, must have been of very fine quality. The 

# 

fingers of a man’s hand wrote the words of condemnation of 
the Babylonian empire “ upon the plaster of the king’s palace. 1 ’ 
Upon those walls were painted historical and religious subjects, 
and various ornaments, and, according to Diodorus Siculus, the 
bricks were enameled with the figures of men and animals. 
Images of stone were no doubt introduced into the buildings. 
We learn from the Bible that figures of the gods in this mate¬ 
rial, as well as in metal, were kept in the Babylonian temples. 
But such sculptures were not common, otherwise more remains 
of them must have been discovered in the ruins. The great 
inscription of Nebuchadnezzar, engraved on a black stone, and 
divided into ten columns, in the museum formed by the East 
India Company, appears to contain some interesting details as to 
the mode of construction and architecture of the Babylonian 
palaces and temples. 

It may be conjectured that, in their general plan, the Baby¬ 
lonian palaces and temples resembled those of Assyria. We 
know that the arts, the religion, the customs, and the laws of the 
two kindred people were nearly identical. They spoke, also, the 
same language, and used, very nearly, the same written charac¬ 
ters. One appears to have borrowed from the other; and, with¬ 
out attempting to decide the question of the priority of the 
independent existence as a nation and of the civilization of either 
people, it can be admitted that they had a certain extent of 


45 6 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


common origin, and that they maintained for many centuries an 
intimate connection. We find no remains of columns at Baby¬ 
lon, as none have been found at Nineveh. If such architectural 
ornaments were used, they must have been either of wood or of 
brick. 

Although the building materials used in the great edifices 
of Babylon may seem extremely mean when compared with 
those employed in the stupendous palace-temples of Egypt, and 
even in the less massive edifices of Assyria, yet the Babylonians 
appear to have raised, with them alone, structures which excited 
the wonder and admiration of the most famous travelers of an¬ 
tiquity. The profuse use of color, and the taste displayed in its 
combination, and in the ornamental designs, together with the 
solidity and vastness of the immense structure upon which the 
buildings proudly stood, may have chiefly contributed to produce 
this effect upon the minds of strangers. The palaces and tem¬ 
ples, like those of Nineveh, were erected upon lofty platforms of 
brickwork. The bricks, as in Assyria, were either simply baked 
in the sun, or were burned in the kiln. The latter are of more 
than one shape and quality. Some are square, others are oblong. 
Those from the Birs Nimroud are generally of a dark red color, 
while those from the Mujelibe are mostly of a light yellow. A 
large number of them have inscriptions in a complex cuneiform 
character peculiar to Babylon. These superscriptions have been 
impressed upon them by a stamp, on which the whole inscription 
was cut in relief. Each character was not made singly, as on 
the Assyrian bricks, and this is the distinction between them. 
Almost all the bricks brought from the ruins of Babylon bear 
the same inscription, with the exception of one or two unimport¬ 
ant words, and record the building of the city by Nebuchadnez¬ 
zar, the son of Nabubaluchun. We owe the interpretation of 
these names to the late Dr. Hincks. 

It may not be out of place to add a few remarks upon the 


HISTORY OF BABYLON. 


457 


history ot Babylon. The time of the foundation of this cele¬ 
brated city is still a question which does not admit of a satisfac¬ 
tory determination, and into which we will not enter. Some 
believe it to have taken place at a comparatively recent date; 
but if, as the Egyptian scholars assert, the name of Babylon is 
found on monuments of the eighteenth Egyptian dynasty, we 
have positive evidence of its existence at least in the fifteenth 
century Before Christ. After the rise of the Assyrian empire, 
it appears to have been sometimes under the direct rule of the 
kings of Nineveh, and at other times to have been governed by 
its own independent chiefs. Expeditions against Babylon are 
recorded in the earliest inscriptions yet discovered in iVssyria; 
and as it has been seen, even in the time of Sennacherib and his 
immediate predecessors, large armies were still frequently sent 
against its rebellious inhabitants. The Babylonian kingdom 
was, however, almost absorbed in that of Assyria, the dominant 
power of the East. When this great empire began to decline 
Babylon rose for the last time. Media and Persia were equally 
ready to throw off the Assyrian yoke, and at length the allied 
armies of Cyaxares and the father of Nebuchadnezzar captured 
and destroyed the capital of the Eastern world. 

-Babylon now rapidly succeeded to that proud position so 
long held by Nineveh. Under Nebuchadnezzar she acquired 
the power forfeited by her rival. The bounds of the city were 
extended; buildings of extraordinary size and magnificence were 
erected; her victorious armies conquered Syria and Palestine, and 
penetrated into Egypt. Her commerce, too, had now spread far 
and wide, from the east to the west, and she became u a land of 
traffic and a city of merchants.” 

But her greatness as an independent nation was short-lived. 
The neighboring kingdoms of Media and Persia, united under 
one monarch, had profited no less than Babylon, by the ruin of 
the Assyrian empire, and were ready to dispute with her the do- 


45 8 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


minion of Asia. Scarcely half a century had elapsed from the 
fall of Nineveh, when “Belshazzar, the king ol the Chaldaeans, 
was slain, and Darius, the Median, took the kingdom.” From 
that time Babylonia sank into a mere province of Persia. It still, 
however, retained much ol its former power and trade, and as we 
learn from the inscriptions of Bisutun, as well as from ancient 
authors, struggled more than once to regain its ancient independ¬ 
ence. 

After the defeat of Darius and the overthrow of the Persian 
supremacy, Babylon opened its gates to Alexander, who deemed 
the city not unworthy to become the capital of his mighty em¬ 
pire. On his return from India, he wished to rebuild the temple 
of Belus, which had fallen into ruins, and in that great work he 
had intended to employ his army, now no longer needed for war. 
The priests, however, who had appropriated the revenues of this 
sacred shrine, and feared lest they would have again to apply them 
to their rightful purposes, appear to have prevented him from car¬ 
rying out his design. 

This last blow to the prosperity and even existence of Baby¬ 
lon was given by Seleucus when he laid the foundation of his new 
capital on the banks of the Tigris (B. C. 322). Already Pa- 
trocles, his general, had compelled a large number of the inhabi- 
tants to abandon their homes, and to take refuge in the desert, 
and in the province of Susiana. The city, exhausted by the 
neighborhood of Seleucia, returned to its ancient solitude. Ac¬ 
cording to some authors, neither the walls nor the temple of Belus 
existed any longer, and only a few of the Chaldaeans continued to 
dwell around the. ruins of their sacred edifices. 

Still, however, a part of the population appear to have re¬ 
turned to their former seats, for, in the early part of the second 
century of the Christian era, we find the Parthian king, Evem- 
erus, sending numerous families from Babylon into Media to be 
sold as slaves, and burning many great and beautiful edifices still 
standing in the citv. 


HISTORY OF BABYLON. 


459 


In the time of Augustus, the city is said to have been en¬ 
tirely deserted, except by a tew Jews who still lingered amongst 
the ruins. St. Cyril, of Alexandria, declares, that in his day, 
about the beginning of the fifth century, in consequence of the 
choking up of the great canals derived from the Euphrates, Bab¬ 
ylon had become a vast marsh; and fifty years later the river is 
described as having changed its course, leaving only a small chan¬ 
nel to mark its ancient bed. Then were verified the prophecies 
ot Isaiah and Jeremiah, that the mighty Babylon should be but 
u pools ot water,” that the sea should come upon her, and that 
she should be covered with the multitude of the waves thereof. 

In the beginning ot the seventh century, at the time of the 
Arab invasion, the ancient cities of Babylonia were u a desola¬ 
tion, a dry land and a wilderness.” Amidst the heaps tnat 
alone marked the site of Babylon there rose the small town of 
Hillah. 

Long before Babylon had overcome her rival Nineveh, she 
was famous for the extent and importance of her commerce. No 
position could have been more favorable than hers for carrying 
on a trade with all the regions of the known world. She stood 
upon a navigable stream that brought to her quays the produce of 
the temperate highlands of Armenia, approached in one part of its 
course within almost one hundred miles of the Mediterranean Sea, 
and emptied its waters into a gulf of the Indian Ocean. Parallel 
with this great river was one scarcely inferior in size and import¬ 
ance. The Tigris, too, came from the Armenian hills, flowed 
through the fertile districts of Assyria, and carried the varied 
produce to the Babylonian cities. Moderate skill and enterprise 
could scarcely fail to make Babylon, not only the emporium of 
the Eastern world, but the main link of commercial intercourse 
between the East and the West. 

The inhabitants did not neglect the advantages bestowed 
upon them by nature. A system of navigable canals that may ex- 


460 


NINEVEH AND BABYLON. 


cite the admiration of even the modern engineer, connected 
together the Euphrates and Tigris, those great arteries ol her 
commerce. 

The vast trade that rendered Babylon the gathering-place 
of men from all parts of the known world, and supplied her with 
luxuries from the remotest clime, had the effect ol corrupting the 
manners of her people, and producing that general profligacy and 
those efflminate customs which mainly contributed to her fall. 
The description given by Herodotus of the state of the popula¬ 
tion of the city when under the dominion of the Persian kings, is 
sufficient to explain the cause of her speedy decay and ultimate 
ruin. The account of the Greek historian fully tallies with the 
denunciation of the Hebrew prophets against the sin and wicked¬ 
ness of Babylon. Her inhabitants had gradually lost their war¬ 
like character. When the Persian broke into their city they 
were reveling in debauchery and lust; and when the Macedonian 
conqueror appeared at their gates, they received with indifference, 
the yoke of a new master. 

Such were the causes of the fall of Babylon. Her career 
was equally short and splendid; and although she has thus per¬ 
ished from the face of the earth, her ruins are still classic, indeed 
sacred, ground. The traveler visits, with no common emotion, 
those shapeless heaps, the scene of so many great and solemn 
events. In this plain, according to tradition, the primitive fami¬ 
lies of our race first found a resting place. Here Nebuchadnez¬ 
zar boasted of the glories of his city, and was punished for his 
pride. To these deserted halls were brought the captives of Ju¬ 
daea. In them Daniel, undazzled by the glories around him, re¬ 
mained steadfast to his faith, rose to be a governor amongst his 
rulers, and prophesied the downfall of the kingdom. There 
was held Belshazzar's feast, and was seen the writing on the walk 
Between those crumbling mounds Cyrus entered the neglected 
gates. Those massive ruins cover the spot where Alexander- 
died. 




TaF^AC AjSD ^AALBEC. 


The city of Thebes is, perhaps, the most astonishing work 
executed by the hand of man. Its ruins are the most unequiv¬ 
ocal proof of the ancient civilization of Egypt, and of the high 
degree of power which the Egyptians had reached by the extent 
of their knowledge. Its origin is lost in the obscurity of time, it 
being coeval with the nation which first took possession of Egypt; 
and it is sufficient to give a proper idea of its antiquity to say 
that the building of Memphis was the first attempt made to 
rival the prosperity of Thebes. 

Its extent was immense; it filled the whole valley which was 
permeated by the Nile. D’Anville and Denon state its circum¬ 
ference to have been thirty-six miles; its diameter not less than 
ten and a half. The number of its inhabitants was in proportion 
to these vast dimensions. Diodorus says, that the houses were 
four and five stories high. Although Thebes had greatly fallen 
off from its ancient splendor at the time of Cambyses, yet it was 
the fury of this merciless conqueror that gave the last blow to its 
grandeur. This prince pillaged the temples, carried away all 
the ornaments of gold, silver, and ivory, which decorated its 
magnificent buildings, and ruined both its temples and its build¬ 
ings. Before this unfortunate epoch, no city in the world could 
be compared with it in extent, splendor, and riches; and, according 
to the expression of Diodorus, the sun had never seen so magnifi¬ 
cent a city. 

Previous to the establishment of the monarchical govern- 

461 









462 


KARNAC AND BAALBEC. 


ment, Thebes was the residence of the principal college of the 
priesthood, who ruled over the country. It is to this epoch that 
all writers refer the elevation of its most ancient edifices. The 
enumeration of them all \yould require more time than we 
have. 

Here was the temple, or palace of Karnac, of Luxor; the 
Memnonium; and the Medineh-Tabou, or, as some other travel¬ 
ers spell it, Medinet-habou. 

The temple, or the palace of Karnac was, without doubt, 
the most considerable monument of ancient Thebes. It was not 
less than a mile and a half in circumference, and enclosed about 
ten acres. M. Denon employed nearly twenty minutes on horse¬ 
back in going round it, at full gallop. The principal entrance of 
the grand temple is on the northwest side, or that facing the 
river. From a raised platform commences an avenue of Crio- 
sphinxes leading to the front propyla, before which stood two 
granite statues of a Pharaoh. One of these towers retains a 
great part of its original height, but has lost its summit and cor¬ 
nice. Passing through the pylon of these towers you arrive at 
a large open court, or area, 275 feet by 329 feet, with a covered 
corridor on either side, and a double line of columns down the 
centre. Other propykea terminate this area, with a small vesti¬ 
bule before the pylon, and form the front of the grand hall of 
assembly, the lintel stones of whose doorway were forty feet ten 
inches in length. The grand hall, or hypostyle hall, measures 
170 feet by 329 feet, supported by a central avenue of twelve 
massive columns, 62 feet high (without the plinth or abacus), and 
36 feet in circumference; besides 122 of smaller, or, rather less 
gigantic dimensions, 42 feet 5 inches in height, and 28 feet in cir¬ 
cumference, distributed in seven lines, on either side of the 
former. It had in front two immense courts, adorned by ranges 
of columns, some of which were sixty feet high, and others 
eighty; and at their respective entrances there were two colossal 



COLUMNS OF KARNAC 

(i Over 4000 years old.) 


463 











































































































































































































































































4 6 4 


KARNAC AND BAALBEC. 


statues on the same scale. In the middle of the second court 
there were four obelisks of granite of a finished workmanship, 
three of which are still standing. They stood before the sanctu¬ 
ary, built all of granite, and covered with sculptures representing 
symbolical attributes of the god to whom the temple was conse¬ 
crated. This was the Maker of the universe, the Creator of all 
things, the Zeus of the Greeks, the Jupiter of the Lutins, but the 
Ammon of the Egyptians. By the side of the sanctuary there 
were smaller buildings, probably the apartments of those at¬ 
tached to the service of the temple; and behind it other habita¬ 
tions, adorned with columns and porticos, which led into another 
immense court, having on each side closed passages, or corridors, 
and at the top a covered portico, or gallery, supported by a great 
number of columns and pilasters. In this way the sanctuary was 
entirely surrounded by these vast and splendid buildings, and the 
whole was enclosed by a wall, covered internally and externally 
with symbols and hieroglyphics, which went round the magnificent 
edifice. 

Beyond this wall there were other buildings, and other 
courts, filled with colossal statues of grey and white marble. 
These buildings, or temples, communicated with each other by 
means of galleries and passages, adorned with columns and 
statues. The most striking circumstance, however, is, that 
attached to this palace are the remains of a much more consid¬ 
erable edifice, of higher antiquity, which had been introduced 
into the general plan when this magnificent building was restored 
by the Pharaoh Amenophis, the third king of the eighteenth 
dynasty, nearly 4,000 years ago. This more ancient edifice, or 
rather its ruins, are considered to be more than 4,000 years old, 
or 2,272 years Before Christ. A second wall enclosed the whole 
mass of these immense and splendid buildings, the approach to 
which was by means of avenues, having on their right and left 
colossal figures of sphinxes. In one avenue they had the head 


STUPENDOUS REMAINS. 


4 6 S 


of a bull; in another they were represented with a human head; 
in a third with a ram’s head. This last was a mile and a half in 
length, began at the southern gate, and led to the temple of 
Luxor. 

Dr. Manning says: “We now enter the most stupendous 
pile ol remains (we can hardly call them ruins) in the world. 
Every writer who has attempted to describe them avows his 
inability to convey any adequate idea of their extent and gran¬ 
deur. The long covered avenues of sphinxes, the sculptured 
corridors, the columned aisles, the gates and obelisks, and colos¬ 
sal statues, all silent in their desolation, till the beholder with 
awe.” (See cut on page 463.) 

There is no exaggeration in Champollion’s words: “The 
imagination, which, in Europe, rises far above our porticos, sinks 
abashed at the foot of the 140 columns of the hypostyle hall at 
Karnac. The area of this hall is 70,629 feet; the central 
columns are thirty-six feet in circumference and sixty-two feet 
high, without reckoning the plinth and abacus. They are cov¬ 
ered with paintings and sculptures, the colors of which are won¬ 
derfully fresh and vivid. If, as seems probable, the great design 
of Egyptian architecture was to impress man with a feeling of 
his own littleness, to inspire a sense of overwhelming awe in the 
presence of the Deity, and at the same time to show that the 
monarch was a being of superhuman greatness, these edifices 
were well adapted to accomplish their purpose. The Egyptian 
beholder and worshiper was not to be attracted and charmed, 
but overwhelmed. His own nothingness and the terribleness of 
the power and the will of God was what he was to feel. But, if 
the awfulness of Deity was thus inculcated, the divine power of 
the Pharaoh was not less strikingly set forth. He is seen seated 
amongst them, nourished from their breasts, folded in their arms, 

O ' 

admitted to familiar intercourse with them. He is represented 
on the walls of the temple as of colossal stature, while the noblest 


466 


KARNAC AND BAALBEC. 


of his subjects are but pigmies in his presence; with one hand he 
crushes hosts of his enemies, with the other he grasps that oi his 
patron deity. 

“ The Pharaoh was the earthly manifestation and avatar ot 
the unseen and mysterious power which oppressed the souls of 
man with terror. 4 I am Pharaoh,’ 4 By the life of Pharaoh,’ 
4 Say unto Pharaoh whom art thou like in thy greatness.’ These 
familiar phrases of Scripture gain a new emphasis of meaning as 
we remember them amongst these temple palaces.” 

Speaking of this magnificent temple, and of the avenue of 
sphinxes we have just mentioned, Belzoni exclaims, that 44 on 
approaching it the visitor is inspired with devotion and piety; 
their enormous size strikes him with wonder and respect to the 
gods to whom they were dedicated. The immense colossal 
statues, which are seated at each side of the gate, seems guard¬ 
ing the entrance to the holy ground; still farther on was the 
majestic temple, dedicated to the great God of the creation.” 
And a little after, 44 I was lost,” says he, 44 in a mass of colossal 
objects, every one of which was more than sufficient of itself 
alone to attract my whole attention. I seemed alone in the 
midst of all that is most sacred in the world; a forest of enor¬ 
mous columns, adorned all round with beautiful figures and 
various ornaments from top to bottom. The graceful shape of 
the lotus, which forms their capitals, and is so well-proportioned 
to the columns, that it gives to the view the most pleasing effect; 
the gates, the walls, the pedestals, and the architraves also 
adorned in every part with symbolical figures in basso relievo 
and intaglio , representing battles, processions, triumphs, feasts, 
offerings, and sacrifices, all relating to the ancient history of the 
country; the sanctuary, wholly formed of fine red granite, with 
the various obelisks standing before it, proclaiming to the distant 
passenger, ‘Here is the seat of holiness;’ the high portals, seen 
at a distance from the openings of the vast labyrinth of edifices; 


TEMPLE OF LUXOR. 


467 


the various groups of ruins of the other temples within sight; 
these altogether had such an effect upon my soul as to separate 
me, in imagination, from the rest of mortals, exalt me on high 
over all, and cause me to forget entirely the trifles and follies of 
life. I was happy for a whole day, which escaped like a flash of 
lightning.’ 1 

Such is the language of Belzoni in describing these majestic 
ruins, and the effect they had upon him. Strong and enthusiastic 
as his expressions may, perhaps, appear, they are perfectly similar, 
we assure you, to those of other travelers. They all seem to have 
lost the power of expressing their wonder and astonishment, and 
frequently borrow the words and phrases of foreign nations to de¬ 
scribe their feelings at the sight of these venerable and gigantic 
efforts of the old Egyptians. 

We have said that this avenue of sphinxes led to the temple 
of Luxor. 

This second temple, though not equal to that of Karnac in 
regard to its colossal proportions, was its equal in magnificence, 
and much superior to it in beauty and style of execution. 

At its entrance there still stand two obelisks 100 feet high, 
and of one single block, covered with hieroglyphics executed in 
a masterly style. It is at the feet of these obelisks that one may 
judge of the high degree of perfection to which the Egyptians 
had carried their knowledge in mechanics. We have seen 
that it costs fortunes to move them from their place. They 
were followed by two colossal statues forty feet high. After 
passing through three different large courts, filled with columns 
of great dimensions, the traveler reached the sanctuary, sur¬ 
rounded by spacious halls supported by columns, and exhibiting 
the most beautiful mass of sculpture in the best style of execu¬ 
tion. 

“It is absolutely impossible, 1 ’again exclaims Belzoni, “ to 
imagine the scene displayed, without seeing it. The most sub- 


4 68 


KARNAC AND BAALBEC. 


lime ideas that can be formed from the most magnificent speci¬ 
mens of our present architecture, would give a very incorrect 
picture of these ruins. It appeared to me like entering a city ot 
giants, who, after a long conflict, were all destroyed, leaving ruins 
of their various temples, as the only proofs of their former exist¬ 
ence. The temple of Luxor,” he adds, “ presents to the trav¬ 
eler at once one of the most splendid groups of Egyptian grandeur. 
The extensive propylseon, with the two obelisks, and colossal 
statues in the front; the thick groups of enormous columns, the 
variety of apartments, and the sanctuary it contains. The beauti¬ 
ful ornaments which adorn every part of the walls and columns, 

’ cause in the astonished traveler an oblivion of all that he has seen 
before.” 

So far Belzoni; and in this he is borne out by Champollion, 
who speaks of Thebes in terms of equal admiration. “ All that 
I had seen, all that I had admired on the left bank,” says this 
learned Frenchman, u appeared miserable in comparison with the 
gigantic conceptions by which I was surrounded at Karnac. I 
shall take care not to attempt to describe any thing; for either 
my description would not express the thousandth part of what 
ought to be said, or, if I drew a faint sketch, I should be taken 
for an enthusiast, or, perhaps, for a madman. It will suffice to 
add, that no people, either ancient or modern, ever conceived the 
art of architecture on so sublime and so grand a scale as the 
ancient Egyptians.” 

The Great Pyramid, which is yet an enigma, stands for our 
astonishment Herodotus tells us, when speaking of the Laby¬ 
rinth of Egypt, that it had 3,000 chambers, half of them above 
and half below ground. He says, u The upper chambers I my¬ 
self passed through and saw, and what I say concerning them is 
from my own observation. Of the underground chambers I can 
only speak from the report, for the keepers of the building could 
not be got to show them, since they contained, as they said, the. 


CHAMBERS OF THE GREAT PYRAMID. 469 

sepulchres of the kings who built the labyrinth, and also those 
of the sacred crocodiles; 
thus it is from hearsay 
only that I can speak of 
the lower chambers. 

The upper chambers, 
however, I saw with 
my own eyes, and found 
them to excel all other 
human productions. The 
passage through the 
houses, and the various tde great pyramid and sphinx. 

windings of the path across the courts, excited in me infinite 
admiration, as I passed from the courts into the chambers, and 
from chambers into colonnades, and from colonnades into fresh 
houses, and again from these into courts unseen before. The 
roof was throughout of stone like the walls, and the walls were 
carved all over with figures. Every court was surrounded with 
a colonnade, which was built of white stone exquisitely fitted 
together. At the corner of the labyrinth stands a pyramid forty 
fathoms high, with large figures engraved on it, which is entered 
by a subterranean passage.'” No one who has read an account 
of the Great Pyramid of Egypt, the building of Solomon’s Tem¬ 
ple, and of the ruins of ancient stone buildings still remaining, 
will doubt the ability of the ancients in the art of building with 
stones. Baalbec has probably the largest stones ever used. 

Baalbec is situated on a plain now called Bukaa, at the 
northern end of a low range of black hills, about one mile from 
the base of Anti-Lebanon. 

It is unknown just how old it is, or by whom it was built. 
Dr. Kitto, in his “History of the Bible,” ascribes the building of 
it to Solomon. But the present remains are mostly of a later 
period, probably about 3,000 years old. Some of the material 










470 


KARNAC AND BAALBEC. 


and some of the original foundations were used again for the sec¬ 
ond structures. 

Baalbec has justly received a world-wide celebrity, owing 
to the magnificence of its ruins, which have excited the wonder 
and admiration of travelers who have enjoyed the privilege of 
seeing them. Its temples are among the most magnificent of 
Grecian architecture. The temples of Athens no doubt excel them 
in taste and purity of style, but they are vastly inferior in dimen¬ 
sions. 

While the edifices of Thebes exceed them in magnitude, they 
bear no comparison with the symmetry of the columns, with the 
richness of the doorways, and the friezes, which abound at Baal¬ 
bec. The foundations of the great temple are themselves en¬ 
titled to rank with the pyramids among the wonders of the world, 
being raised twenty feet above the level of the ground, and have 
in them stones of one solid mass ninety feet long, eighteen feet 
wide, and thirteen feet thick. 

The main attractions, however, are the three temples or 
main chambers. The first, which may be called the great tem¬ 
ple, consists of a peristyle, of which only six columns remain, two 
courts and a portico are standing on an artificial platform, nearly 
thirty feet high, and having vaults underneath. Beneath the 
whole platform is an immense court of two hundred feet across; 
it is a hexagon or nearly round shape. It is accessible by a vaulted 
passage, which leads to a triplet gateway, with deep mouldings, 
which opens into the first court. 

The great court is 440 feet long by 370 feet wide, and has 
on each of its sides niches and columns, which, even in their 
ruins, are magnificent. 

The two sides exactly correspond with each other, but 
the south is in better condition than the other. These niches 
have columns in front of them in the style of the hexagon, with 
chambers at the angles of the great court or square. The visitor 


THE GREAT TEMPLE. 


47 1 


entering through the portico, and passing into the great court, 
has before him on the opposite side (the west) of the court, 
the Great Temple originally dedicated to Baal. This was a mag¬ 
nificent peristyle measuring 290 feet by 160 feet, with nineteen 
huge columns on each side, and ten on each end, making fifty- 
eight in all. The circumference of these columns at the base is 
twenty-three feet and two inches, and at the top twenty feet; and 
their height, including base and capital, was seventy-five feet, 
while over this was the entablature fourteen feet more. In the 
walls of the foundation are seen those enormous stones, some 
ninety feet in length; others, sixty-four, sixty-three, sixty-two, 
etc., and all from thirteen to eighteen feet wide, and very frequently 
thirteen feet thick. These stones mark the extent of a platform 
of unknown antiquity, but far older than the peristyle temple, and 
it is from this that the temple took its early date and name. It 
is probable that the great stones lying in the adjoining quarry 
were intended for it, as the temple at that date seems to have 
been left unfinished. 

The second temple has not quite the dimensions that the 
first has, but it is one of the grandest monuments of the ancient 
art in Syria. It is 227 feet by 117. Its peristyle is composed 
of forty-two columns, fifteen on each side and eight on each end. 
At the portico was an immense row of six fluted columns, and 
within these, and opposite to the ends of the antae, were two 
others. The height of these columns is sixty-five feet, and their 
circumference nineteen feet and two inches, while the entablature, 
richly ornamented above the columns, was about twelve feet 
high. 

The portico is destroyed, only a few pieces of the shafts 
remaining, and the steps by which it was approached are also 
destroyed. The columns of the peristyle have mostly fallen; 
but four remain with their entablatures on the south side near 
the portico; on the west end there are six remaining, and on the 


47 2 


KARNAC AND BAALBEC. 


north there are nine. The cut on page 473 gives somewhat of 
an idea of this temple. 

In 1759 ah earthquake threw down three columns of the 
great temple and nine of the peristyle of the Temple of the Sun. 
It would appear as though nothing but an earthquake could 
destroy these remains, and they even seem to withstand this with 
wonderful resistance. At the western end is the cella , or 
innermost sacred part of the edifice, it is 160 feet by 85. A 
modern wall was built across the vestibule and the only entrance 
is through a low hole broken in the wall. Entering through this 
aperture the spectator has before him the gem of the structure, 
the great portal . It was twenty-one feet high and forty-two feet 
long and gorgeously ornamented. The sides are each of a single 
stone, and the lintels are composed of three huge blocks. Borders 
of fruit, flowers and leaves are profuse on the architrave, and on 
the soffit of the door is the celebrated figure of the eagle with a 
caduceus in his talons, and in his beak strings of long twisted 
garlands, which are extended on each side and have the opposite 
ends borne by flying genii. 

In 1751 the portal was perfect. When Wood sketched it, 
but eight years afterwards, the shock of an earthquake rent the 
wall and permitted the central stone to sink about two feet. 
Yet, even in this state, it is one of the most striking and beauti¬ 
ful gateways in the world. The first compartment measures 
ninety-eight feet by sixty-seven, having fluted columns on each 
side, and the sanctum, or place for the altar and statue, occupies 
a space of twenty-nine feet deep at the western end and consid¬ 
erably raised above the floor of the nave. Such were the ar¬ 
rangements of this vast magnificent edifice. 

It may be well to mention here another building although 
not so old nor large, but we wish to speak of it because it is so 
remarkable in withstanding time. 

We are speaking of the Pantheon, the splendid building 



RUINS OF BAALBEC 
























































































































































































































































































474 


PANTHEON AT ROME. 


erected by M. Agrippa, the friend of Augustus, in immediate 
connection with the Thermae, built and dedicated to Jupiter 
Ultor by him. This building, which embodied, as it were, the 
highest aspirations of Roman national pride and power, was com¬ 
pleted, according to the original inscription preserved on it, B. C. 
25, in which yqar Agrippa was consul for the third time. Accord¬ 
ing to the statement of Pliny (“His. Nat.,” 36, 24, 1), which how¬ 
ever, has been disputed, it was originally dedicated to Jupiter 
Ultor, whose statue, therefore, undoubtedly stood in the chief 
niche-opposite the entrance. The other six niches contained the 
statues of as many gods; those of the chief deities of the Julian 
family, Mars and Venus, and of the greatest son of that family,, 
the divine Caesar, being the only ones amongst the number of 
which we have certain knowledge. Was it that the statues of 
Mars and Venus showed the attributes of the other principal 
gods, or that the statues of the latter stood in the small chapels 
( cediculce ) between the niches, or that the unequaled enormous 
cupola was supposed to represent heaven, that is, the house of all 
the gods? Certain it is that, together with the old appellation 
the new name of the Pantheon, i. e ., temple of all the gods, was 
soon applied to the building. The latter name has been unani¬ 
mously adopted by posterity, and has even originated the Chris¬ 
tian destination of the edifice as church of all the martyrs (S. 
Maria ad Martyres). Without entering into the consecutive 
changes the building has undergone in the course of time, we 
will now attempt a description of its principal features. The 
temple consists of two parts, the round edifice and the portico.. 
The former was 132 feet in diameter, exclusive of the thickness of 
the wall, which amounts to 19 feet. The wall is perfectly circu¬ 
lar, and contains eight apertures, one of which serves as entrance, 
while the others form, in a certain order, either semicircular or 
quadrangular niches; the former are covered by semi-cupolas, the 
latter by barrel-vaults. Only the niche opposite the entrance is r 


THE PANTHEON 


475 


at the present time, uninterrupted, and open up to its full height, 
thus corresponding with the formation of the entrance section; in 
front ol each ol the others, two columns have been erected, the 
beams ol which close the opening of the semicircular vault. To 



INSIDE VIEW OF THE PANTHEON. 

this chief portion of the building is attached the splendid portico 
which, in the manner of the above-mentioned temples, projects by 
three columns, besides a massive wall-structure. The frontage 






















































































































































































































47 6 


PANTHEON. 


shows eight columns. As a rule, the whole space of the pronaos 
was without columns; contrary to the rule we here see it divided 
into three naves by means of two pairs of columns. The center 
nave, which was also the widest, led to the entrance-door, each 
of the two others being terminated by an enormous niche. Not 
to mention sesthetical considerations, these columns were required 
as props of the roof covering the vast space (the portico is about 
ioo feet long). 

The columns of the portico carried beams, on the frieze of 
which the following inscription in large letters has been placed: 
M*AGRIPPA*L*F*COS*TERTIUM*FECIT. Another inscrip¬ 
tion below this one, in smaller characters, states the building to 
have been restored by Septimius Severus and Caracalla. The 
beams carry a large pediment, originally adorned with groups of 
statues representing Jupiter’s victories over the Gigantes. Be¬ 
hind and above this gable rises a second one of the same propor¬ 
tions, serving as an ornament of the projecting wall which con¬ 
nects the round building with the portico. The roof of the 
portico was supported by beams made of brass. According to 
the drawing of Serlio, these beams were not massive, but con¬ 
sisted of brass plates riveted together into square pipes—a prin¬ 
ciple frequently applied by modern engineers on a larger scale in 
building bridges, etc. Unfortunately, the material of the roof, 
barring some of the large rivets, has been used by Pope Urban 
VIII. for guns and various ornaments of doubtful taste in St. 
Peter’s Cathedral. The large columns carrying the ugly taber¬ 
nacle on the grave of St. Peter are one of the results of this bar¬ 
barous spoliation. The old door, also made of brass, which leads 
from the portico into the interior has, on the contrary, been pre¬ 
served. The outer appearance of the round building is simple 
and dignified. It most likely was originally covered with stucco 
and terra-cotta ornaments, of which, however, little remains at 
present; but the simple bricks, particularly in the upper stripes, 



THE PANTHEON. 


477 



where the insertion of the vault becomes visible, look, perhaps,, 
quite as beautiful as the original coating. The whole cylinder of 
masonry is divided into 
three stripes by means of 
cornices, which break the 
heaviness of the outline, the 
divisions of the inner space 
corresponding to those of 
the outer surface. The 
first of these stripes is 
about forty feet high, and 
rests on a base of Trav¬ 
ertine freestone. It con¬ 
sists of simple horizontal 
slabs of stone, broken only 

, -i , . , , , , THE PANTHEON AT ROME. 

by doors which lead to 

chambers built in the thickness of the wall between the niches. 
It corresponds to the columns forming the first story of the inte¬ 
rior, the two cornices, in and outside, being on a level. The 
second stripe, about thirty feet in height, answers to the second 
story of the interior, where the semicircular arches of the niches 
are situated. The horizontal stone layers outside are accordingly 
broken by large double arches,- destined to balance the vaults in 
the interior. They alternate with smaller arches, thus forming a 
decoration of the exterior at once dignified and in harmony with 
the general design of the building. The two cornices in and out¬ 
side are again on a level. The third stripe corresponds to the 
cupola, the tension of which is equal to 140 feet. The outer 
masonry reaches up to about a third of its height, from which 
point the cupola proper begins to rise in seven mighty steps. 

The height of the dome is equal to the diameter of the cy¬ 
lindrical building, 132 feet, which adds to the sober and harmo¬ 
nious impression of the whole building. The lower of the above- 




































































PANTHEON AT ROME. 



mentioned interior stories is adorned with columns and pilasters, 
the latter of which enclosed the niches. Eight ol these columns, 
over thirty-two feet in height, are monoliths ot gicillo antico 
a yellow kind of marble beautifully veined, and belonging to the 
most valuable materials used by ancient architects. Six other 



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HALF-SECTION OF THE PANTHEON. 

columns are made of a kind of marble known as pavoncizzetto / 
by an ingenious mode of coloring these columns are made to har¬ 
monize with those consisting of the rarer material. Above the 
first lies a second lower story, the architectural arrangements of 
which may be recognized from Adler’s ingenious attempt at re¬ 
construction. Its original decoration consisted of tablets of col- 




















































































































































































































































































































































EGYPTIAN OBELISKS. 


479 


orecl marble, the effect being similar to that of a sequence of nar¬ 
row pilasters. This original decoration has later been changed 
for another. Above the chief cornice which crowns this story, and 
at the same time terminates the circular walls, rises the cupola, 
divided into five stripes, each of which contains twenty-five 
“ caskets” beautifully worked and in excellent perspective. In 
the center at the top is an opening, forty feet in diameter, through 
which the light enters the building. Near this opening a frag¬ 
ment has been preserved of the bronze ornamentation which once 
seems to have covered the whole cupola. Even without these 
elegant decorations the building still excites the spectator’s ad¬ 
miration, as one of the masterpieces of Roman genius. 

Obelisks were in Egypt commemorative pillars recording 
the style and the title of the king who erected them, his piety, 
and the proof he gave of it in dedicating those monoliths to the 
deity whom he especially wished to honor. They are made of a 
single block of stone, cut into a quadrilateral form, the width 
diminishing gradually from the base to the top of the shaft, 
which terminates in a small pyramid (pyramidion). They were 
placed on a plain square pedestal, but larger than the obelisk 
itself. Obelisks are of Egyptian origin. The Romans and the 
moderns have imitated them, but they never equaled their models. 

Egyptian obelisks are generally made of red granite of 
Syene. There are some, however, of smaller dimensions made 
of sandstone and basalt. They were generally placed in pairs at 
the entrances of temples, on each side of the propyla. The shaft 
was commonly ten diameters in height, and a fourth narrower at 
the top than at the base. Of the two which were before the 
palace of Luxor at Thebes, one is seventy-two feet high, and six 
feet, two inches wide at the base; the other is seventy-seven feet 
high, and seven feet, eight inches wide. Each face is adorned 
with hieroglyphical inscriptions in intaglio , and the summit is 
terminated by a pyramid, the four sides of which represent relig- 


4S0 


# 


OBELISKS. 


ious scenes, also accompanied by inscriptions. The corners of 
the obelisks are sharp and well cut, but their laces are not per¬ 
fectly plane, and their slight convexity is a proof of the attention 
the Egyptians paid to the construction of their monuments. If 
their faces were plane they would appear concave to the eye; the 
convexity compensates for this optical illusion. The hieroglyph- 
ical inscriptions are in a perpendicular line, sometimes there is 
but one in the middle of the breadth of the face, and often there 
are three. The inscription was a commemoration by the king 
who had the temple or palace built before which the obelisk was 
placed. It contained a record stating the houses and titles which 
the king who erected, enlarged, or gave rich presents to a tem¬ 
ple, had received in return from the priesthood, and setting forth, 
for instance, that Rameses was the lord of an obedient people, 
and the beloved of Ammon. Such is the subject of the inscrip¬ 
tion which is in the middle of each face of the obelisks; and 
though the name of the same king and the same events are 
repeated on the four sides, there exists in the four texts, when 
compared, some difference, either in the invocation to the partic¬ 
ular divinities or in the titles of the king. Every obelisk had, in 
its original form, but a single inscription on each face, and of the 
same period of the king who had erected it; but a king who 
came'after him, adding a court, a portico, or colonnade to the 
temple or palace, had another inscription relative to his addition, 
with his name engraved on the original obelisk; thus, .every 
obelisk adorned with many inscriptions is of several periods. 
The pyramidion which terminates them generally represents in 
its sculptures the king who erected the obelisk making different 
offerings to the principal deity of the temple, and to other divin¬ 
ities. Sometimes also the offering is of the obelisk itself. The 
short inscriptions of the pyramidion bear the oval of the king 
and the name of the divinity. By these ovals can be known 
the names of the kings who erected the obelisks still existing 


OBELISKS 


481 


whether in Egypt or elsewhere. The largest obelisk known is 
fhat of St. John Lateran, Rome. It was brought from Heliopo¬ 
lis to Alexandria by the emperor Constantine, and was conveyed 



obeltsk of heltopolts ( Over 4000 years old). 

The following is a translation of the hieroglyphic writing which is set into it: 
“TheHorus; the living from his birth; the king of Upper and Lower Egjrpt; Ra 
Kheper Ka; Lord of the two diadems; Son of the sun; Osirtasen; the loved of the 
God of Heliopolis from his birth; Ever-living; The golden Horus; the Good God; Ra 
Kheper Ka to the first celebration of the panegyry. He (has) made (this obelisk) the 
eternal generator.” 

to Rome by Constantius, who erected it in the Circus Maximus. 
The height of the shaft is 105 feet, 7 inches. The sides are of 

3 1 


it 





















































































4 S2 


OBELISKS. 


unequal breadth at the base, two measure nine feet, eight and 
one-half inches, the other two only nine feet. It bears the name 
of Thohtmes III. in the central, and that of Thohtmes IV. in the 
lateral lines, kings of the eighteenth dynasty, in the fifteenth 
century B. C. The two obelisks at Luxor were erected by the 
king Rameses II., of the nineteenth dynasty, 13 n B. C. (Wil¬ 
kinson). One of these has been taken to Paris. The obelisk of 
Heliopolis bears the name of Osirtasen I., 2020 B. C. (Wilkin¬ 
son), and is consequently the most ancient. It is about sixty- 
seven feet high. The obelisks at Alexandria were brought from 
Heliopolis about 2,000 years ago. The one that was lying in 
the sand, and the smaller of the two, was removed to London 
some years ago, and the other, which was still standing, was 
presented to the United States by Ismail Pasha, father of the 
present Khedive. This monument of antiquity is an inestimable 
treasure to our country. It bears the name of Thohtmes III. In 
the lateral lines are the ovals of Rameses the Great. It is of red 
granite of Syene. It bears the name of Cleopatra’s Needle, 
is about seventy feet high, with a diameter at its base of seven 
feet, seven inches. We can hardly appreciate that we should 
have standing in New York a relic so ancient—a column upon 
which Moses and Aaron looked, and doubtless read its hiero¬ 
glyphic inscription; that Rameses the Great (Sesostris) had his 
knightly banner carved upon it; that Darius, Cambyses, Alex¬ 
ander the Great, the Ptolemies, Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, Mark 
Antony and Augustus knew it; that it was equally known and 
beheld of Pythagoras, Herodotus and Strabo; that a long pro¬ 
cession of the most illustrious characters of the middle ages have 
passed before it, from the days of Clement and Anastasius to 
those of Don John of Austria; and, finally, that it was the first 
herald of Egypt to Napoleon and Mohammed Ali. A monu¬ 
ment like this will truly be cherished by every citizen. The 
obelisk of the Piazza del Popolo claims great interest, as it 



OBELISKS. 


4 8 3 


also stood before the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis. Lep- 
sius attributes it to Meneptha. It was removed to Rome by 
Augustus, B. C. 19, to ornament the Circus Maximus. The 
obelisk in front of St. Peter’s was brought to Rome by Caligula, 
and placed on the Vatican in the Circus of Caligula. It is about 
eighty-three feet high. There are several other Egyptian obe¬ 
lisks in Rome. Nothing can afford a greater idea of the skill of 

1 

the Egyptians, and of their wonderful knowledge of mechanism, 
than the erection of these monoliths. 

The Greeks never made obelisks outside of Egypt. The 
Macedonian kings, or Ptolemies, who reigned in that country, from 
Alexander to Augustus, erected, terminated, or enlarged many 
monuments, but always according to Egyptian rules. Egyptian 
artists executed obelisks for their Greek princes, but they did 
not depart, any more than in the other monuments, from their 
ancient customs. The Egyptian style and proportions are al¬ 
ways to be recognized, and the inscriptions are also traced in 
hieroglyphics. The obelisk found at Philse was erected in honor 
of Ptolemy Evergetes II. and of Cleopatra, his sister, or Cleo¬ 
patra, his wife, and placed on a base bearing a Greek inscription 
relating: the reason and occasion of this monument. It was 
removed from Philse by Belzoni, and has been now erected at 
Kingston Hall, Dorset, by Mr. Bankes. It is very far from equal¬ 
ing the Pharaonic obelisks in dimensions, it being only twenty- 
two feet high. 

After the Romans had made Egypt a Roman province they 
carried away some of its obelisks. Augustus was the first who 
conceived the idea of transporting these immense blocks to 
Rome; he was imitated by Caligula, Constantine, and others. 
They were generally erected in some circus. Thirteen remain 
at the present day at Rome, some of which are of the time of 
the Roman domination in Egypt. The Romans had obelisks 
made in honor of their princes, but the material and the work- 


4 8 4 


OBELISKS. 


manship of the inscriptions cause them to be easily distinguished 
from the more ancient obelisks. The Barberini obelisk, on the 
Monte Pincio, is of this number; it bears the names of Adrian* 
of Sabina, his wife, and ot Antinous, his favorite. The obelisk, 
of the Piazza Navona, from the style of its hieroglyphics, is 
supposed to be a Roman work of the time of Domitian. r I he 
name of Santus Rufus can be read on the Albani obelisk, now at 
Munich, and as there are two Roman prefects of Egypt known 
of that name, it was, therefore, one of those magistrates who 
had executed in that country these monuments in honor of the 
reigning emperors, and then had them sent to Rome. The 
Romans also attempted to make obelisks at Rome; Such is the 
obelisk of the Trinita de 1 Monti, which formerly stood in the 
Circus of Sallust. It is a bad copy of that of the Porta del 
Popolo. The Roman emperors in the east had also some Egyp¬ 
tian obelisks transported to -Constantinople. Fragments of two 
of these monuments have been found in Sicily, at Catania; one 
of them has eight sides, but it is probably not a genuine Egyp¬ 
tian work. The use of the obelisk as a gnomon, and the erec¬ 
tion of it on a high base in the center of an open space, were only 
introduced on the removal of single oblelisks to Rome. 





TOW *QH 

# 


Mythology is- from the word myth, meaning fable, it is 
therefore a system of fabulous opinions and doctrines respecting 
the deities which the heathen nations have supposed to preside 
over the world or to influence its affairs. 

They had twelve gods, Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, Mercury, 
Mars, Vulcan, Apollo, Diana, Minerva, Juno, Ceres and Vesta. 
Besides these there were other lesser gods, Bacchus, Isis, Ilebe, 
the Muses and the Fates, etc.; also Sleep, Dreams and Death; 
and there were still others who had free will and intelligence, 
and having mixed forms, such as the Pegasus, or winged horse, 
the Centaur, half man and half horse, Hydra, etc. 

The Greek theory of the origin of things was that the 
beginning was chaos laden with the seed of all nature, then 
came the Earth and the Heavens, or Uranus; these two were mar¬ 
ried and from this union came a numerous and powerful brood. 
First were the six Titans, all males, and then the six female^, and 
the Cyclops, three in number; these latter were of gigantic size, 
having but one e} r e, and that in the center of the forehead. They 
represented Thunder, Lightning and Fire, or the rapid flame. 

The Titans made war upon their father and wounded him, 
and from the drops of blood which flowed from the wound and 

4 8 5 




















4 S6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


fell upon the earth sprang the Furies, whose names signified 
u Unceasing,” u Envier,” and u Blood-Avenger;” and the Giants 
and melian Nymphs, and from the blood drops which fell into the 
sea sprang Venus, the goddess of love and beauty. 

The youngest and bravest son, Saturn, who wounded and 
dethroned his father, was, by the consent of his brethren, per¬ 
mitted to reign with an understanding that his male children 
should all be destroyed. But his wife, Rhea, hid from him three 
of her sons, Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto, who, waging a ten-year 
war against their father, finally dethroned him and divided the 
kingdom among themselves. The oldest, Jupiter, had the 
heavens, and reigned over all gods, Neptune over the sea, and 
Pluto the lower regions. 

Jupiter then built his courts on Mount Olympos, reigned 
supreme god over heaven and earth; he was called the father of 
man and gods, and is placed at the head of the entire creation. 

He is generally represented as majestic in appearance, seated 
on a throne with a sceptre in one hand and thunderbolts in the 
other. Jupiter had a number of wives; he also married his sister 
Juno, who was the queen goddess. Besides Jupiter, Juno, Nep¬ 
tune and Pluto the other eight gods were the children of Jupiter. 

Neptune was second to Jupiter in power. He is represented 
as carrying a trident or three-tined fork, with which he strikes 
the earth and shakes it; he is therefore often called the u earth- 
shaker.” Pie is usually represented like Jupiter, of a serene and 
majestic aspect, seated in a chariot made of shells and drawn by 
dolphins and sea-horses, while the Tritons and the Nymphs gam¬ 
bol about him. 

Pluto is represented as the grim, stern ruler over hell. He is 
also called Hades and Orcus. Pie has a throne of sulphur, from 
beneath which flows the Rivers Lethe, or u Oblivion,” Phleg- 
ethon, Cocytus and Acheron. In one hand he holds his fork and 
in the other the keys of hell, and beside him is the dog with 


MYTHOLOGY. 


487 


three heads. He is deseribed as being well qualified for his 
position, being inexorable and deaf to supplications, and an ob¬ 
ject of aversion and hatred to both gods and men. From his 
realms there is no return, and all mankind, sooner or later, are 
sure to be gathered into his kingdom. 

As none of the goddesses would marry the stern and 
gloomy god, he seized Proserpine, the daughter of Ceres, while 
she was gathering flowers, and opened the earth and carried her 
through into his dominion. 

Mercury was the messenger and ambassador of the gods. 
He was represented by wings on his hat, and sandals, and usually 
carrying a wand, or staff, with two serpents twined around it. 
Fie himself was a god of eloquence and the patron of orators, 
merchants, thieves, robbers, travelers and shepherds. 

Mars was the god of war. Sorrow and fear accompanied 
him, disorder and discord in tattered garments go before him 
and anger and clamor follow. Fie is of huge size and gigantic 

strength, and his voice was louder than those of ten thousand 

* % 

mortals. 

Vulcan was the forger, and is generally represented at an 
anvil in a short tunic, with a hammer in his right hand. He was 
lame when he was born, and his mother, Juno, was so shocked 
that she flung him headlong from the Mt. Olympos. 

Apollo was the god of archery, prophecy and music, and 
is usually seen with a harp in his hand and of beautiful figure. 

Diana was the goddess of chase, and appears with a bow in 
her hand and a quiver of arrows at her back, and on her side is 
a hound. She devoted herself to perpetual celibacy, and her 
chief joy was to speed like a Dorian maid over the hills, followed 
by a train of nymphs in pursuit of the flying game. 

Minerva is the goddess 0 f wisdom and skill, and the teacher 
in warfare. She has a serious and thoughtful countenance, a 
spear in one hand and a shield in the other, while a helmet covers 
her head. She is said to have sprung from the brains of Jupiter. 


4 88 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


Juno, the wife of Jupiter, was haughty, jealous and inexor¬ 
able; a goddess of dignified and matronly air, often found with 
a peacock at her feet. 

Ceres is the goddess of grain and harvest. She is repre¬ 
sented riding on a chariot drawn by dragons, and distributing 
grain to the different regions of the earth. She holds in one hand 
corn and wheat, in the other a lighted torch, and wears on her 
head a garland of wheat heads. 

After Pluto stole her daughter, Proserpine, she searched for 
her throughout the whole world. 

Vesta, the goddess of the household and domestic hearths, 
is represented in a long-flowing robe, with a veil on her head, a 
lamp in one hand, and a spear or javelin in the other. In her 
temple at Rome, the sacred fire was guarded by six priestesses, 
called the Vestal Virgins. 

Among the lesser gods there were many, but the most com¬ 
mon was Bacchus, who was the god of lust, wine, and the patron 
of drunkenness and debauchery. He is represented as an effem¬ 
inate young man, with long flowing hair. In one hand he holds 
a goblet, in the other a bunch of grapes and a short dagger. 

The Muses were goddesses who presided over music and 
poetry, and all the liberal arts and sciences. They were nine 
in number. 

The Graces were three in number, and personified Splendor, 
Joy and Pleasure. They were three beautiful sisters, standing 
with their arms entwined. 

The Fates were also three goddesses, who presided over the 
destiny of mortals. The first was the staff' of life, the second 
spun the cord, and the third cut it off. 

This is a brief outline of the origin and nature of the gods and 
goddesses; and the legends are numerous, and some of them are 
of exceeding interest and beauty, while others shock and disgust 
us by the gross impossibilities and hideous deformities which they 


MYTHOLOGICAL CHARACTERS. 


489 


reveal. We have concluded to give a direct translation of them 
from the Greek, so that the reader may have them in the pure 
original form, and thereby have not only the beauty and inter¬ 
est retained, but at the same time an idea of the style of the 
ancient writings; only a few stories have been modified to bring 
them nearer to the level of the rest. We will, however, be 
obliged to use the Greek names instead of the Latin in this 
translation, as it is from the Greek, and will therefore give the 
names translated below: 

Greek. Latin. 

Zeus, Jupiter. 

Here, Juno. 

Poseidon, Neptune. 

Plouton, Pluto. 

Demeter, Ceres. 

Apollo, Apolo. 

Artemis, Diana. 

The most of the Greek people appear to have believed that 
their divinities were real persons, but their philosophers explained 
the legends concerning them as allegorical representations of 
general physical and moral truths. The Greeks, therefore, 
instead of favoring nature, worshiped the powers of nature per¬ 
sonified. 


Greek. Latin. 

Hephaistos, Vulcan. 
Athene Minerva. 
Ares, Mars. 

Aphrodite, Venus. 
Hermes, Mercury. 
Hestia, Vesta. 


THE DELPHIAN /kPOLW. 

From land to land the lady Leto wandered in fear and sor¬ 
row, for no city or country would give her a home where she 
might abide in peace. From Crete to Athens, from Athens to 
FEgina, from FEgina to the heights of Pelion and Athos, through 
all the islands of the wide ZEgaean Sea, Skyros and Imbros and 
Lemnos, and Chios the fairest of all, she passed, seeking a home. 



490 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


But in vain she prayed each land to receive her, until she came 
to the Island of Delos, and promised to raise it to great glory if 
only there she might rest in peace. And she lifted up her voice 
and said, “ Listen to me, O island of the dark sea. If thou wilt 
grant me a home, all nations shall come unto thee, and great 
wealth shall flow in upon thee; for here shall Phoebus Apollo, 
the lord of light and life, be born, and men shall come hither to 
know his will and win his favor.'” Then answered Delos, and 
said, u Lady, thou promisest great things; but they say that the 
power of Phoebus Apollo will be such as nothing on the wide 
earth may withstand; and mine is but a poor and stony soil, 
where there is little to please the eye of those who look upon 
me. Wherefore I fear that he will despise my hard and barren 
land, and go to some other country where he will build a more 
glorious temple, and grant richer gifts to the people who come 
to worship him.” But Leto swore by the dark water of Styx, 
and the wide heaven above, and the broad earth around her, that 
in Delos should be the shrine of Phoebus, and that there should 
the rich offerings burn on his altar the whole year round. 

So Leto rested in the Island of Delos, and there was Phoebus 
Apollo born. And there was joy among the undying gods who 
dwell in Olympos, and the earth laughed beneath the smile of 
heaven. Then was his temple built in Delos, and men came to 
it from all lands to learn his will and offer rich sacrifices on his 
altar. 


THE PYTHIAjN APOLLO. 

Long time Apollo abode in Delos; and every year all the 
children of Ion were gathered to the feast which was held before 
his temple. But at length it came to pass that Apollo went 
through many lands, journeying towards Pytho. With harp in 



THE PYTHIAN APOLLO. 


49 1 


hand he drew nigh to the gates of Olympos, where Zeus and the 
gods dwell in their glory; and straightway all rejoiced for the 
sweetness of his harping. The Muses sang the undying gifts 
of the gods, and the griefs and woes of mortal men who can not 
flee from old age and death. The bright Horai joined hands 
together with Hebe and Harmonia; and Ares stood by the side 
of Aphrodite with Hermes the slayer of Argos, gazing on the 
face of Phoebus Apollo, which glistened as with the light of the 
new-risen sun. Then from Olympos he went down into the 
Pierian land, to Iolkos and the Lelantian plain; but it pleased 
him not there to build himself a home. Thence he wandered 
on to Mykalessos, and, traversing the grassy plains oi Teumes- 
sos, came to the sacred Thebes; but neither would he dwell 
there, for no man had yet come hither, neither was there road 
nor path, but only wild forests in all the land. 

Further and further he roamed, across the stream of Kephi- 
sos and beyond Okalea and Haliartos, until he came to Telphusa. 
There he thought to build himself a temple, for the land was. 
rich and fair, so he said, “ Beautiful 
Telphusa, here would I rest in thy happy 
vale, and here shall men come to ask my 
will and seek lor aid in the hour ot fear; 
and great glory shall come to thee while 
I abide in thy land.” But Telphusa was 
moved with anger as she saw Phoebus 
marking out the place for his shrine and 
laying its foundations; and she spake 
craftily to him, and said, “ Listen to me, 

Phoebus Apollo. Thou seekest here to 
have a home, but here thou canst never 
rest in peace; tor my broad plain will 
tempt men to the strife of battle, and the tramp ot wai- 
horses shall vex the stillness of thy holy temple. Nay, 



even 




RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


49 2 

in the time of peace, the lowing cattle shall come in crowds 
to my fountain, and the tumult will grieve thine heart. But go 
thou to Krisa, and make for thyself a home in the hidden clefts 
of Parnassos, and thither shall men hasten with their gifts from 
the utmost bounds of the earth.” So Apollo believed her words, 
and he went on through the land of the Phlegyes until he came to 
Krisa. There he laid the foundations of his shrine in the deep 
cleft of Parnassos; and Trophonios and Agamedes, the children 
of Erginos, raised the wall. There also he found the mighty 
dragon who nursed Typhaon, the child of Here, and he smote 
him, and said, u Rot there upon the ground, and vex not more 
the children of men. The days of thy life are ended, neither 
can Typhoeus himself aid thee now, nor Chimsera of the evil 
name. But the earth and the burning sun shall consume and 
scorch thy body.” So the dragon died, and his body rotted on 
the ground; wherefore the name of the place is called Pytho, 
and they worship Phoebus Apollo as the great Pythian king. 

But Phoebus knew now that Telphusa had deceived him, 
because she said nothing of the great dragon of Krisa, or of the 
roughness of the land. So he hastened back in his anger and 
said, u Thou hast beguiled me, Telphusa, with thy crafty words; 
but no more shall thy fountain send forth its sweet water, and 
the glory shall be mine alone.” Then Apollo hurled great crags 
down and choked the stream near the beautiful fountain, and the 
glory departed from Telphusa. 

Then he thought within himself what men he should choose 
to be his priests at Pytho; and far away, as he stood on the high 
hill, he saw a ship sailing on the wine-faced sea, and the men 
who were in it were Cretans, sailing from the land of King 
Minos to barter their goods with the men of Pylos. So Phoebus 
leaped into the sea, and changed his form to the form of a dol¬ 
phin, and hastened to meet the ship. None knew whence the 
great fish came which smote the side of their vessel with its 


PHCEBUS APOLLO. 


493 


mighty fins; but all marveled at the sight, as the dolphin 
guided the ship through the dark waters, and they sat trembling 
with fear, as they sped on without a sail by the force of the 
strong south wind. From the headland of Malea and the land of 
the Lakonians they passed to Helos and to Tsenaron where Helios 
dwells, in whom the sons of men take delight, and where his cat¬ 
tle feed in the rich pastures. There the sailors would have ended 
their wanderings; but they sought in vain to land, for the ship 
would not obey its helm. Onward it went along the coast of 
the Island of Pelops, for the mighty dolphin guided it. So from 
Arene and Arguphea it came to the sandy Pylos, by Chalkis 
and Dyme to the land of the Epeians, to Pherae and to Ithaka. 
There the men saw spread out before them the waters which 
wash the shores of Krisa; and the strong west wind came with 
its fierce breath, and drove them off to the east and towards the. 
sunrising until they came to Krisa. 

Then Phoebus Apollo came forth from the sea, like a star, 
and the brightness of his glory reached up to the high heaven. 
Into his shrine he hastened, and on the altar he kindled the undy¬ 
ing: fire, and his bright arrows were hurled abroad, till all Krisa 
was filled with the blaze of his lightnings, so that fear came upon 
all, and the cries of the women rose shrill on the sultry air. Then, 
swift as a thought of the heart, he hastened back to the ship; but 
his form was now the form of a man in his beauty, and his golden 
locks flowed over his broad shoulders. From the shore he called 
out to the men in the Cretan ship, and said “Who are ye, stran¬ 
gers? and do ye come as thieves and robbers, bringing terror and 
sorrow whithersoever ye may go? Why stay ye thus, tarrying 
in your ships, and seek not to come out on the land ? Surely ye 
must know that all who sail on the wide sea rejoice when their 
ship conies to the shore, that they may come forth and feast with 
the people of the land?” So spake Phoebus Apollo; and the leader 
of the Cretans took courage and said, “Stranger, sure I am that 


494 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


thou art no mortal man, but one of the bright heroes or the undy¬ 
ing 1 gods. Wherefore tell us now the name of this land and of the 
people who dwell in it. Hither we never sought to come, for we 
were sailing from the land of Minos to barter our wares at Pylos; 
but some one of the gods hath brought us hither against our 
will. ^ 

Then spake the mighty Apollo, and said to them, “ O, stran¬ 
gers, who have dwelt in Knossos of the Cretan land, think not to 
return to your ancient home, to your wives or to your children. 
Here ye must guard and keep my shrine, and ye shall be honored 
of all the children of men. For I am the son of Zeus, and my 
name is Phoebus Apollo. It was I who brought you hither across 
the wide sea, not in guile or anger, but that in all time to come 
ye may have great power and glory, that ye may learn the coun¬ 
sel of the undying gods and make known their will to men. 
Hasten then to do my bidding; let down your sails, and bring 
your ship to the shore. Then bring out your goods, and build 
an altar on the beach, and kindle a fire, and offer white barley as 
an offering; and because I led you hither under the form of a dol¬ 
phin, so worship me as the Delphian god. Then eat bread and 
drink wine, as much as your soul may lust after; and after that 
come with me to the holy place, where ye shall guard my tem¬ 
ple.” 

So they obeyed the words of Phoebus; and when they had 
offered the white barley, and feasted richly on the sea-shore, they 
arose to go, and Apollo led them on their way. His harp was in 
his hand, and he made sweet music, such as no mortal ear had 
heard before; and they raised the chant To Paean, for a new power 
was breathed into their hearts, as they went along. They thought 
not now of toil or sorrow; but with feet unwearied they went up 
the hill until they reached the clefts of Parnassos, where Phoebus 
would have them dwell. 

Then out spake the leader of the Cretans, and said, boldly, 


PHOEBUS APOLLO. 


495 



“ O king, thou hast brought us far away from our homes to a 
strange land; whence are we to get food here? No harvest will 
grow on these bare rocks, no meadows are spread out before our 
eyes. The whole land is bare and desolate.’’ But the son of 
Zeus smiled and said, “ O foolish men, and easy to be cast down, 
if ye had your wish ye would gain nothing but care and toil. 
But listen to me and ponder well my words. Stretch forth 
your hands and slay each day the rich offerings, for they 
shall come to you with¬ 
out stint and sparing, 
seeing that the sons of 
men shall hasten hither 
from all lands, to learn 
my will and ask for aid 
in the hour of fear. Only 
guard ye my temple 
well, and keep your 
hands clean and your 
hearts pure; for if ye 
deal rightly no man shall 
take away your glory; 
but if ye speak lies and 
do iniquity, if ye hurt 
the people who come to 
my altar, and make 
them to go astray, then 
shall other men rise up 
in your place, and ye 
yourselves shall be 

thrust out forever, because ye would not obey my words.” 


apollo. (From an ancient Sculpture .) 





49 6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


NIOBE AND LETO. 

In the little Island of Delos there lived a long time ago a lady 
who was called Niobe. She had many sons and many daughters, 
and she was very proud of them, for she thought that in all the 
Island of Delos, and even in all the world, there were no children 
so beautiful as her own. And as they walked, and leaped, and 
ran among the hills and valleys of that rocky island, all the peo¬ 
ple looked at them, and said, “Surely there are no other children 
like the children of the lady Niobe . 71 And Niobe was so pleased 
at hearing this, that she began to boast to every one how strong 
and beautiful her sons and daughters were. 

Now in this Island of Delos there lived also the lady named 
Leto. She had only two children, and their names were Arte¬ 
mis and Phoebus Apollo; but they were very strong and fair, 
indeed. And whenever the lady Niobe saw them, she tried to 
think that her own children were still more beautiful, although 
she could hardly help feeling that she had never seen any so glo¬ 
rious as Artemis and Apollo. So one day the lady Leto and the 
lady Niobe were together, and their children were playing before 
them; and Phoebus Apollo played on his golden harp, and then ' 
he shot from his golden bow the arrows which never missed their 
mark. But Niobe never thought of Apollo’s bow, and the 
arrows which he had in his quiver; and she began to boast to the 
lady Leto ol the beauty of her children, and said, “See, Leto; 
look at my seven sons and my seven daughters, and see how 
strong and fair they are. Apollo and Artemis are beautiful, I 
know, but my children are fairer still; and you have only two- 
children while I have seven sons and seven daughters.” So Niobe' 
went on boasting, and never thought whether she should make 
Leto angry. But Leto said nothing until Niobe and her children 
were gone, and then she called Apollo, and said to him, “I do not 


NIOBE AND LETO. 


497 


love the lady Niobe. She is always boasting that her sons and 
daughters are more beautiful than you and your sister; and I wish 
you to show her that no one else is so strong as my children, or 
so beautiful.” Then Phoebus Apollo was angry, and a dark frown 
came upon his fair young face, and his eyes were like the flaming 
fire. But he said nothing, and he took his golden bow in his 
hand, and put his quiver with his terrible arrows across his 
shoulder, and went away to the hills where he knew that the lady 
Niobe and her children were. And when he saw them he went 
and stood on a bare high rock, and stretched the string of his 
golden bow, and took an arrow from his quiver. Then he held 
out the bow, and drew the string to his breast, until the point of 
the arrow touched the bow; and then he let the arrow fly. 
Straight to its mark it went, and one of the lady Niobe’s sons 
fell dead. Then another arrow flew swiftly from the bow, and 
another, and another, and another, till all the sons and all the 
daughters of Niobe lay dead on the hillside. Then Apollo 
called out to Niobe, and said, u Go and boast now of your beauti¬ 
ful children! ” 

It had all passed so quickly that Niobe scarcely knew 
whether it was not a dream. She could not believe that her 
children were really gone—all her sons and all her daughters, 
whom she had just now seen so happy and strong around her. 
But there they lay, still and cold, upon the ground. Their eyes 
were closed as if they were asleep, and their faces had still a 
happy smile, which made them look more beautiful than ever. 
And Niobe went to them all one by one, and touched their cold 
hands, and kissed their pale cheeks; and then she knew that the 
arrows of Phcebus Apollo had killed them. Then she sat down 
on a stone which was close to them, and the tears flowed from 
her eyes, and they streamed down her face, as she sat there as 
still as her children who lay dead before her. She never raised 
her head to look at the blue sky—she never moved hand or foot, 

3 2 




49 8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


but she sat weeping on the cold rock until she became as cold as 
the rock itself. And still her tears flowed on, and still her body 
grew colder and colder, until her heart beat no more, and the 
lady Niobe was dead. But there she still seemed to sit and 
weep, for her great grief had turned her into a stone; and all the 
people, whenever they came near that place, said, “ See, there 
sits the lady Niobe, who was turned into stone, when Phoebus 
Apollo killed all her children^ because she boasted that no one 
was so beautiful as they were.” And long after, when the stone 
was grown old and covered with moss, the people still thought 
they could see the form of the lady Niobe; for the stone, which 
did not look much like the form of a woman when they came 
near to it, seemed at a distance just as though Niobe still sat 
there, weeping for her beautiful children whom Phoebus Apollo 
slew. 


DAPHNE. 

In the vale of Tempe, where the stream of Peneios flows 
beneath the heights of Olympos towards the sea, the beautiful 
Daphne passed the days of her happy childhood. Fresh as the 
earliest morning, she climbed the crags to greet the first rays of 
the rising sun; and when he had driven his fiery horses over the 
sky, she watched his chariot sink behind the western mountains. 
Over hill and dale she roamed, free and light as the breeze of 
spring. Other maidens round her spoke each of her love, but 
Daphne cared not to listen to the voice of man, though many a 
one sought her to be his wife. 

One day as she stood on the slopes of Ossa in the glow of 
early morning, she saw before her a glorious form. The light 
of the new-risen sun fell on his face with a golden splendor, and 
she knew that it was Phoebus Apollo. Hastily he ran towards 



DAPHNE. 


499 


her, and said, u I have found thee, Child of the Morning. Others 
thou hast cast aside, but from me thou canst not escape. I have 
sought thee long, and now will I make thee mine.” *But the 
heart of Daphne was bold and strong; and her cheek flushed and 
her eye sparkled with anger, as she said, u I know neither love 
nor bondage. I live free among the streams and hills; and to 
none will I yield my freedom.” Then the face of Apollo grew 
dark with anger, and he drew near to seize the maiden; but swift 
as the wind she fled away. Over hill and dale, over crag and 
river, the feet of Daphne fell lightly as falling leaves in autumn; 
but nearer yet came Phcebus Apollo, till at last the strength of 
the maiden began to fail. Then she stretched out her hands, and 
cried for help to the lady Demeter; but she came not to her aid. 
Her head was dizzy, and her limbs trembled in- utter feebleness 
as she drew near the broad river which gladdens the plains of 
Thessaly, till she almost felt the breath of Phoebus, and her robe 
was almost in his grasp. Then, with a wild cry, she said, 
“Father Peneios, receive thy child,” and she rushed into the 
stream, whose waters closed gently over her. 

She was gone; Apollo mourned for his madness in chasing 
thus the free maiden. And he said, “ I have punished myself 
by my folly; the light of the morning is taken out of the day. 
I must go on alone till my journey shall draw towards its end.” 
Then he spake the word, and a laurel came up on the bank 
where Daphne had plunged into the stream; and the green bush 
with its thick clustering leaves keeps her name forever. 


KYF^EjNE. 

Among the valleys and hills of Thessaly, Kyrene, the fair¬ 
armed daughter of Hypseus, wandered free as the deer upon 
the mountain side. Ol all the maidens of the lftnd, there was 



5°° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


none to vie her in beauty; neither was there any that could be 
matched with her for strength of arm and speed of foot. She 
touched not the loom or the spindle; she cared not for banquets 
with those who revel under houses. Her feasts were spread on 
the green grass, beneath the branching tree; and with her spear 
and dagger she went fearless among the beasts of the field, or 
sought them out in their dens. 

One day she was roaming along the winding banks of 
Peneios, when a lion sprang from a thicket across her path. 
Neither spear nor dagger was in her hand, but the heart of 
Kyrene knew no fear, and she grappled with him until the beast 
sank wearied at her feet. She had conquered, but not unseen,, 
for Phoebus Apollo had watched the maiden as she battled with 
the angry lion; and straightway he called the wise centaur 
Cheiron, who had taught him in the days of his youth. “ Come 
forth ,’ 1 he said, u from thy dark cave, and teach me once again, 
for I have a question to ask thee. Look at yonder maiden, and 
the beast which lies beaten at her feet; and tell me (for thou art 
wise) whence she comes, and what name she bears. Who is 
she, that thus she wanders in these lonely valleys without fear 
and without hurt? Tell me if she may be wooed and won.” 
Then Cheiron looked steadfastly at the face of Phoebus, and a 
smile passed over his countenance as he answered, u There are 
hidden keys to unlock the prison-house of love; but why askest 
thou me of the maiden’s name and race—thou who knowest the 
end of all things, and all the paths along which the sons of men 
are journeying? Thou hast counted the leaves which burst forth 
in the spring-time, and the grains of sand which the wind tosses 
on the river bank, or by the sea shore. But if I must needs 
match thee in suitable wisdom, then listen to my words. The 
maiden is wooed and won already; and thou art going to bear 
her as thy bride over the dark sea, and place her in golden halls 
on the far-off Libyan land. There she shall have a home rich in 



KYRENE. 


5 QI 

every fruit that may grow up from the earth; and there shall 
thy son Aristaios be born, on whose lips the bright Horai shall 
shed nectar and ambrosia, so that he may not come under the 
doom of mortal men.” 

Then Phoebus Apollo smiled as he answered, “Of a truth, 
Cheiron, thou deservest thy fame, for there are none to match 
with thee for wisdom; and now I go with Kyrene to the land which 
shall be called by her name, and where, in time to come, her 
children shall build great and mighty cities, and their name shall 
be spread abroad throughout all the earth for strength and 
wisdom. 

So the maiden Kyrene came to the Libyan land, and there 
Aristaios, her child, was born. And Hermes carried the babe 
to the bright Horai, who granted him an endless life; and he 
dwelt in the broad Libyan plains, tending his flocks, and bringing 
forth rich harvests from the earth. For him the bees wrought 
their sweetest honey; for him the sheep gave their softest wool; 
for him the cornfields waved with their fullest grain. No blight 
touched the grapes which his hand had tended; no sickness vexed 
the herds which fed in his pastures. And they who dwelt in the 
land said, “ Strife and war bring no such gifts as these to the sons 
of men; therefore let us live in peace.” 


HERMEJ3. 

Early in the morning, long ago, in a cave of the great 
Kyllenian hill, lay the new-born Hermes, the son of Zeus and 

stirred by his soft 
breathing, while he slept as peacefully as the children of mortal 
mothers. But the sun had not driven his flerv chariot half over 
the heaven, when the babe arose from his sacred cradle and 


Maia. The cradle-clothes were scarcely 



5° 2 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


stepped forth from the dark cavern. Before the threshold a tor¬ 
toise fed lazily on the grass; and when the child saw it he 
laughed merrily. “Ah! this is luck, indeed,” he said; “whence hast 
thou come, pretty creature, with thy bright speckled shell? Thou 
art mine now, and I must take thee into my cave. It is better 
to be under shelter than out of doors; and though there may be 
some use in thee while thou livest, it will comfort thee to think 
that thou wilt sing sweetly when thou art dead.” So the child 
Hermes took up his treasure in both arms, and carried it into the 
cavern. There he took an iron probe, and pierced out the life 
of the tortoise; and quick as thought, he drilled holes in its 
shell, and hxed in them reed-canes. Then across the shell he 
fastened a piece of ox-hide, and with seven sheep-gut cords he 
finished the making of his lyre. Presently he struck it with 
the bow, and a wave of sweet music swelled out upon the air. 
Like the merry songs of youths and maidens, as they sport in 
village feasts, rose the song of the child Hermes; and his eyes 
laughed slyly as he sang of the loves of Zeus and Maia, and 
how he himself was born of the mighty race of the gods. 
Still he sang on, telling of all that he saw around him in the 
home of the nymph, his mother, but all the while, as he sang,, 
his mind was pondering on other things; and when the song 
was ended, he went forth from the cave, like a thief in the night,, 
on his wily errand. 

The sun was hastening down the slope of heaven, with his. 
chariot and horses to the slow-rolling stream of Ocean, as Hermes, 
came to the shadowy hills of Pieria, where the cattle of the gods 
fed in their large pastures. There he took fifty from the herd T 
and made ready to drive them to the Kyllenian hill. But before 
him lay vast plains of sand; and, therefore, lest the track of the 
cattle should tell the tale of his thieving, he drove the beasts round 
about by crooked paths, until it seemed as though they had gone 
to the place from whence he had stolen them. He had taken 


HERMES. 


5°3 



good care that his own footsteps should not betray him, for with 
branches of tamarisk and myrtle, well twisted with their leaves, 
he hastily made sandals, and sped away from Pieria. One man 
alone saw him, a very old man, 
who was working in his vineyard 
on the sunny plain of Onchestos. 

To him Hermes went quickly, and 
said, “Old man, thou wilt have 
plenty of wine when these roots 
come all into bearing trim. Mean¬ 
while keep a wise head on thy 
crumpled shoulders, and take heed 
not to remember more than may 
be convenient.” 

Onwaids, over daik hills, and pluto and his wife. 

through sounding dells, and across flowery plains, hastened the 
child Hermes, driving his flock before him. The night waxed 
and waned, and the moon had climbed to her watchtower in the 
heaven, when, in the flush of early morning, Hermes reached the 
banks of the great Alpheian stream. Then he turned his herd 
to feed on the grassy plain, while he gathered logs of wood, and, 
rubbing two sticks together, kindled the first flame that burned 
upon the earth where dwell the sons of men. The smoke went 
up to the heaven, and the flame crackled fiercely beneath it, as 
Hermes brought forth two of the herd, and, tumbling them on 
their back, pierced out the life of both. Their hides he placed on 
the hard rock; their flesh he cut up into twelve portions; and so 
Hermes hath the right of ordering all sacrifices which the children 
of men offer to the undying gods. But he ate not of the flesh or 
fat, although hunger sorely pressed him; and he burnt the bones 
in the fire, and tossed his tamarisk sandals into the swift stream 
of Alpheios. Then he quenched the fire, and with all his might 
trampled down the ashes, until the pale moon rose up again in the 








RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


5°4 

sky. So he spec! on his way to Kyllene. Neither god nor man 
saw him as he went, nor did the dogs bark. Early in the morn¬ 
ing he reached his mother’s cave, and darted through the keyhole 
of the door, softly as a summer breeze. Without a sound his 
little feet paced the stony floor, till he reached his cradle and lay 
down, playing like a babe among the clothes with his left hand, 
while the right held the tortoise-lyre hidden underneath them. 

But, wily as he was, he could not cheat his mother. To his 
cradle she came, and said, u Whither hast thou wandered in the 
dark night? Crafty rogue, mischief will be thy ruin. The son 
of Leto will soon be here, and bear thee away bound in chains 
not easily shaken off. Out of my sight, little wretch, born to 
worry the blessed gods and plague the race of men! ” u Mother,” 
said Hermes, gently, “why talk thus to me, as though I were like 
mortal babes, a poor cowering thing, to cry for a little scolding? 
I know thy interest and mine: why should we stay here in this 
wretched cave, with never a gift nor a feast to cheer our hearts? 
I shall not stay. It is pleasanter to banquet with the gods than 
to dwell in a cavern in draughts of whistling wind. I shall try 
my luck against Apollo, for I mean to be his peer; and if he will 
not suffer me, and if Zeus, my father, take not up my cause, I 
will see what I can do for myself, by going to the shrine of Pvtho 
and stealing thence the tripods and caldrons, the iron vessels and 
glittering robes. If I may not have honor in Olympos, I can at 
least be the prince of thieves.” 

Meanwhile, as they talked together, Eos rose up from the 
deep ocean stream, and her tender light flushed across the sky, 
while Apollo hastened to Onchestos and the holy grove of Posei¬ 
don. There the old man was at work in his vineyard, and to 
him Phoebus went quickly, and said, “ Friend hedger, I am come 
from Pieria looking for my cows. Fifty of them have been 
driven away, and the bull has been left behind with the four do^s 
who guarded them. Tell me, old man, hast thou seen any one 


HERMES. 


505 


with these cows, on the road?” But the old man said that it 
would be a hard matter to tell of all that he might chance to see. 
“ Many travelers journey on this road, some with evil thoughts, 
some with good; I can not well remember all. This only I 
know, that yesterday, from the rising of the sun to its setting, I 
was digging in my vineyard, and I think, but I am not sure, that 
I saw a child with a herd of cattle. A babe he was, and he held 
a staff in his hand, and, as he went, he wandered strangely from 
the path on either side.” 

Then Phoebus stayed not to hear more, for now he knew of a 
surety that the new-born son of Zeus had done him the mischief. 
Wrapped in a purple mist, he hastened to beautiful Pylos, and 
came on the track of the cattle. “ O Zeus!” he cried, “ this is 
indeed a marvel. I see the footprints of cattle, but they are 
marked as though the cattle were going to the asphodel meadow, 
not away from it. Of man or woman, of wolf, bear, or lion, I 
spy not a single trace. Only here and there I behold the foot¬ 
prints of some strange monster, who has left his mark at random 
on either side of the road.” So on he sped to the woody heights 
of Kyllene, and stood on the doorstep of Maia’s cave. Straight¬ 
way the child Hermes nestled under the cradle-clothes in fear, 
like a new-born babe asleep. But, seeing through all his craft, 
Phoebus looked steadily through all the cave and opened three 
secret places full of the food and drink of the gods, and full also 
of gold and silver and raiment; but not a cow was in any of 
them. At last he fixed his eyes sternly on the child, and said, 
“Wily babe, where are my cows? If thou wilt not tell me, 
there will be strife between us; and then I will hurl thee down 
to the gloomy Tartaros, to the land of darkness, whence neither 
thy father nor thy mother can bring thee back, and where 
thy kingdom shall be only over the ghosts of men.” “Ah!” 
said Hermes, “ these are dreadful words, indeed; but why dost 
thou chide me thus, or come here to look for cows? I have not 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


5°6 

seen or heard of them, nor has any one told me of them. I can 
not tell where they are, or get the reward, if any were promised, 
for discovering them. This is no work of mine; what do I care for 
but for sleeping and sucking, and playing with my cradle-clothes, 
and being washed in warm water? My friend, it will be much 
better that no one should hear of such a silly quarrel. The 
undying gods would laugh at the very thought of a little .babe 
leaving its cradle to run after cows. I was born but yesterday. 
My feet are soft, and the ground is hard. But if it be any com¬ 
fort to thee, I will swear by my father’s head (and that is a very 
great oath) that I have not done this deed, nor seen any one else 
steal your cows, and that I do not know what cows are.” 

As he spoke he looked stealthily from one side to the other, 
while his eyes winked slyly, and he made a long soft whistling 
sound, as if the words of Phoebus had amused him mightily. 
u Well, friend,” said Apollo, with a smile, “ thou wilt break into 
many a house, I see, and thy followers after thee; and thy fancy 
for beef will set many a herdsman grieving. But come down 
from the cradle, or this sleep will be thy last. Only this honor can 
I promise thee, to be called the prince of thieves forever.” So 
without more ado Phoebus caught up the babe in his arms; but 
Hermes gave so mighty a sneeze that he quickly let him fall, 
and Phoebus said to him, gravely, “ This is the sign that I shall 
find my cows; show me, then, the way.” In great fear Hermes 
started up and pulled the cradle-clothes over his ears, as he said, 
“ Cruel god, what dost thou seek to do with me? Why worry 
me thus about cows? I would there were not a cow in all the 
earth. I stole them not, nor have I seen any one steal the cows, 
whatever things cows may be. I know nothing but their name. 
But come; Zeus must decide the quarrel between us.” 

Thus each with his own purpose spake to the other, and 
their minds grew all the darker, for Phoebus sought only to know 
where his cows might be, while Hermes strove only to cheat 


HERMES. 


5°7 

him. So they went quickly and sulkily on, the babe first, and 
Phoebus following after him, till they came to the heights of 
Olympos and the home of the mighty Zeus. There Zeus sat on 
the throne ot judgment, and all the undying gods stood around 
him. Before them in the midst stood Phoebus and the child 
Hermes, and Zeus said, “ Thou hast brought a fine booty after 
thy hunt to-day, Phoebus—a child of a day old. A fine matter 
is this to put before the gods.” 

u My father,” said Apollo, quickly, “ I have a tale to tell 
which will show that I am not the only plunderer. After a 
weary search I found this babe in the cave of Kyllene; and a 
thief he is such as I have never seen whether amon^ gods or 
men. Yester eve he stole my cattle from the meadow, and 
drove them straight towards Pylos to the shore of the sounding 
sea. The tracks left were such that gods and men might well 
marvel at them. The footprints of the cows on the sand were 
as though they were going to my meadows, and not away from 
them; his own footmarks beggar all words, as if he had gone 
neither on his feet nor on his hands, and as if the oak tops had 
suddenly taken to walking. So was it on the sandy soil; and 
after this was passed, there remained no marks at all. But an 
old man saw him driving them on the road to Pylos. There he 
shut up the cattle at his leisure, and, going to his mother’s cave, 
lay down in his cradle like a spark in a mass of cinders, which 
an eagle could scarcely spy out. When I taxed him with the 
theft he boldly denied it, and told me that he had not seen the 
cows or heard naught of them, and could not get the reward it 

one were offered for restoring them.” 

So the words of Phoebus were ended, and the child Hermes 
made obeisance to Zeus, the lord of all the gods, and said, 
“ Father Zeus, I shall tell thee the truth, for I am a very truth¬ 
ful being*, and I know not how to tell a lie. This morning, when 
the sun was but newly risen, Phoebus came to my mother’s cave,. 



5°8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


looking for cows. He brought no witnesses; but urged me by 
force to confess; he threatened to hurl me into the abyss ol Tar- 
taros. Yet he has all the strength of early manhood, while I, as 
he knows, was born but yesterday, and am not in the least like 
a cattle-reiver. Believe me (by thy love for me, thy child) that 
I have not brought these cows home, or passed beyond my 
mother’s threshold. This is strict truth. Nay, by Helios and 
the other gods, I swear that I love thee and have respect for 
Phoebus. Thou knowest that I am guiltless, and, if thou wilt, I 
will also swear it. But, spite of all his strength, I will avenge 
myself some day on Phoebus for his unkindness; and then help 
thou the weaker.” 

So spake Ilermes, winking his eyes and holding the clothes 
to his shoulders; and Zeus laughed aloud at the wiliness of the 
babe, and bade Phoebus and the child be friends. Then he bowed 
his head and charged Hermes to show the spot where he had 
hidden the cattle, and the child obeyed, for none may despise that 
sign and live. To Pylos they hastened and to the broad stream 
of Alpheios, and from the fold Hermes drove forth the cattle. 
But as he stood apart, Apollo beheld the hides flung on the rock, 
and he asked Hermes, u How wast thou able, cunning rogue, to 
flay two cows, thou a child but one day old? I fear thy might in 
time to come, and I can not let thee live.” Again he seized the 
child, and bound him fast with willow bands; but the child tore 
them from his body like flax, so that Phoebus marveled greatly. 
In vain Hermes sought a place wherein to hide himself, and great 
fear came upon him till he thought of his tortoise-lyre. With 
his bow he touched the strings, and the wave of song swelled out 
upon the air more full and sweet than ever. He sang of the un¬ 
dying gods and the dark earth, how it was made at the first, and 
how to each of the gods his own appointed portion was given, 
till the heart of Apollo was filled with a mighty longing, and he 
•spake to Hermes, and said, u Cattle-reiver, wily rogue, thy song 


HERMES. 


5°9 


is worth fifty head of cattle. We will settle our strife by and 
by. Meanwhile, tell me, was this wondrous gift of song born 
with thee, or hast thou it as a gift from any god or mortal man? 
Never on Olympos, from those who can not die, have I heard such 
strains as these. They who hear thee may have what they will, 
be it mirth, or love, or sleep. Great is thy power, and great 
shall be thy renown, and by my cornel staff I swear that I will 
not stand in the way of thy honor or deceive thee in anywise.” 

Then said Hermes, “ I grudge thee not my skill, son of 
Leto, for I seek but thy friendship. Yet thy gifts from Zeus are 
great. Thou knowest his mind, thou canst declare his will, and 
reveal what is stored up in time to come for undying gods or 
mortal men. This knowledge I fain would have. But my power 
of song shall this day be thine. Take my lyre, the soother of 
the wearied, the sweet companion in hours of sorrow or ot 
feasting. To those who come skilled in its language, it can dis¬ 
course sweetly of all things, and drive away all thoughts that 
annov and cares that vex the soul. To those who touch it, not 

•j 

knowing how to draw forth its speech, it will babble strange 
nonsense, and rave with uncertain moanings. But thy knowledge 
is born with thee, and so my lyre is thine. Wherefore now let 
us feed the herds together, and with our care they shall thrive 
and multiply. There is no more cause for anger.” 

So saying the babe held out the lyre, and Phoebus Apollo 
took it. In his turn he gave to the child Hermes a glittering 
scourge, with charge over his flocks and herds. Then, touching 
the chords of the lyre, he filled the air with sweet music, and 
they both took their way to Olympos, and Zeus was glad at 
heart to see that the wrath of Apollo had passed away. But 
Phoebus dreaded yet the wiles of Hermes, and said, “ I fear me 
much, child of Maia, that in time to come thou mayest steal both 
my harp and my bow, and take away my honor among men. 
Come now, and swear to me by the dark water of Styx 


t^IO RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 

that thou wilt never do me wrong.” Then Hermes bowed his 
head, and swore never to steal anything from Apollo, and never 
to lay hands on his holy shrine; and Phoebus swore that of all 
the undying gods there should be none so dear to him as Idermes. 
“And of this love,” he said, “I will give thee a pledge. My 
golden rod shall guard thee, and teach thee all that Zeus may 
say to me for the well or ill-doing of gods or men. But the 
higher knowledge for which thou didst pray may not be thine; 
for that is hidden in the mind of Zeus, and I have sworn a great 
•oath that none shall learn it from me. But the man who comes 
to me with true signs, I will never deceive; and he who puts 
trust in false omens and then comes to inquire at my shrine, shall 
be answered according to his folly, but his offering shall go into 
my treasure-house. Yet further, son of Maia, in the clefts of 
Parnassos far away dwell the winged Thriai, who taught me long- 
ago the secret things of times to come. Go thou, then, to the 
three sisters, and thus shalt thou test them. If they have eaten 
of the honeycomb before they speak, they will answer thee truly; 
but if they lack the sweet food of the gods, they will seek to lead 
astray those who come to them. These I give thee for thy 
counselors; only follow them warily; and have thou dominion 
over all flocks and herds, and over all living things that feed on 
the wide earth; and be thou the guide to lead the souls of mortal 
men to the dark kingdom of Hades.” 

So was the love of Apollo for Hermes made sure; and 
Hermes hath his place amongst all the deathless gods and dying- 
men. Nevertheless, the sons of men have from him no great 
gain, for all night long he vexes them with his treacherous wiles. 


THE BORROW OF DEMETER. 

\ 

In the fields of Enna, in the happy Island of Sicily, the beau¬ 
tiful Persephone was playing with the girls who lived there with 



THE SORROW OF DEMETER. 51I 

her. She was the daughter of the lady Demeter, and every one 
loved them both, for Demeter was good and kind to all, and no 
one could be more gentle and merry than Persephone. She and 
her companions were gathering flowers from the field, to make 
crowns for their long flowing hair. They had picked many roses 
and lilies and hyacinths, which grew in clusters around them, 
when Persephone thought she saw a splendid flower far off; and 
away she ran, as fast as she could, to get it. It was a beautiful 
narcissus, with a hundred heads springing from one stem; and 
the perfume which came from its flowers gladdened the broad 
heaven above, and the earth and sea around it. Eagerly Perse¬ 
phone stretched out her hand to take this splendid prize, when 
the earth opened, and a chariot stood before her, drawn by four 
coal-black horses; and in the chariot there was a man with a dark 
and solemn face, which looked as though he could never smile, 
and as though he had never been happy. In a moment he got 
out of his chariot, seized Persephone round the waist, and put 
her on the seat by his side. Then he touched the horses with 
his whip, and they drew the chariot down into the great gulf, 
and the earth closed over them again. 

Presently the girls who had been playing with Persephone 
came up to the place where the beautiful narcissus was growing; 
but they could not see her anywhere. And they said, “ Here is 
the very flower which she ran to pick, and there is no place here 
where she can be hiding . 11 Still for a long time they searched 
through the fields of Enna; and when the evening was come they 
went home to tell the lady Demeter that they could not tell what 
had become of Persephone. 

Very terrible was the sorrow of Demeter when she was 
told that her child was lost. She put a dark robe on her shoul¬ 
ders, and took a flaming torch in her hand, and went over land 
and sea to look tor Persephone. But no one could tell hei 
where she was gone. When ten days were passed she met 


5 12 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


Hekate, and asked her about her child; but Hekate said, “I 
heard her voice, as she cried out when some one seized her; but 
I did not see it with my eyes, and so I know not where she is 



gone . 11 Then she went to Helios, and said to him, u O Helios, 
tell me about my child. Thou seest everything on the earth, 
sitting in the bright sun . 11 Then Helios said to Demeter, “I 
pity thee for thy great sorrow, and I will tell thee the truth. It 

























































































THE SORROW OF DEMETER. 


5 X 3 


is Hades who has taken away Persephone to be his wife in the 
dark and gloomy land which lies beneath the earth.” 

Then the rage of Demeter was more terrible than her sor¬ 
row had been; and she would not stay in the palace of Zeus, on 
the great Thessalian hill, because it was Zeus who had allowed 
Hades to take away Persephone. So she went down from 
Olympos, and wandered on a long way until she came to Eleu- 
sis, just as the sun was going down into his golden cup behind 
the dark blue hills. There Demeter sat down close to a foun¬ 
tain, where the water bubbled out from the green turf and fell 
into a clear basin, over which some dark olive trees spread their 
branches. Just then the daughters of Keleos, the king of Eleu- 
sis, came to the fountain with pitchers on their heads to draw 
water; and when they saw Demeter, they knew from her face 
that she must have some great grief; and they spoke kindly to 
her, and asked if they could do anything to help her. Then she 
told them how she had lost and was searching for her child; and 
they said, u Come home and live with us; and our father and 
mother will give you everything that you can want, and do all 
that they can to soothe your sorrow.” So Demeter went down 
to the house of Keleos, and she stayed there for a whole year. 
And all this time, although the daughters of Keleos were very 
gentle and kind to her, she went on mourning and weeping for 
Persephone. She never laughed or smiled, and scarcely ever 
did she speak to any one, because of her great grief. And even 
the earth, and the things which grow on the earth, mourned for 
the sorrow which had come upon Demeter. There was no fruit 
upon the trees, no corn came up in the fields, and no flowers 
blossomed in the gardens. And Zeus looked down from his 
high Thessalian hill, and saw that everything must die unless he 
could soothe the grief and anger of Demeter. So he sent 
Hermes down to Hades, the dark and stern king, to bid him 
send Persephone to see her mother, Demeter. But before blades 

33 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


5H 

let her go he gave her a pomegranate to eat, because lie did not 
wish her to stay away from him always, and he knew that she 
must come back if she tasted but one of his pomegranate seeds. 
Then the great chariot was brought before the door ot the 
palace, and Hermes touched with his whip the coal-black horses, 
and away they went as swiftly as the wind, until they came close 
to Eleusis. Then Hermes left Persephone, and the coal-black 
horses drew the chariot away again to the dark home ot King 
Hades. 

The sun was sinking down in the sky when Hermes left 
Persephone, and as she came near to the fountain she saw some 
one sitting near it in a long black robe, and she knew that it 
must be her mother who still wept and mourned for her child. 
And as Demeter heard the rustling of her dress, she lifted up 
her face, and Persephone stood before her. 

Then the joy of Demeter was greater, as she clasped her 
daughter to her breast, than her grief and her sorrow had been. 
Again and again she held Persephone in her arms, and asked her 
about all that had happened to her. And she said, 11 Now that 
you are come back to me, I shall never let you go away again; 
Hades shall not have my child to live with him in his dreary 
kingdom .’ 1 But Persephone said, “ It may not be so, my 
mother; I can not stay with you always; for before Hermes 
brought me away to see you, Hades gave me a pomegranate, 
and I have eaten some of the seeds; and after tasting the seed I 
must go back to him again when six months have passed by. 
And, indeed, I am not afraid to go, for although Hades never 
smiles or laughs, and everything in his palace is dark and 
gloomy, still he is very kind to me, and I think that he feels 
almost happy since I have been his wife. But do not be sorry, 
my mother, for he has promised to let me come up and stay with 
you for six months in every year, and the other six months I 
must spend with him in the land which lies beneath the earth.” 


THE SORROW OF DEMETER. 


5 X 5 

So Demeter was comforted for her daughter Persephone, 
and the earth and all the things that grew in it felt that her 
anger and sorrow had passed away. Once more the trees bore 
their fruits, the flowers spread out their sweet blossoms in the 
garden, and the golden corn waved like the sea under the soft 
summer breeze. So the six months passed happily away, and 
then Hermes came with his coal-black horses to take Persephone 
to the dark land. And she said to her mother, “ Do not weep 
much; the gloomy king whose wife I am is so kind to me that I 
can not be really unhappy, and in six months more he will let 
me come to you again.” But still, whenever the time came 
round for Persephone to go back to Hades, Demeter thought of 
the happy days when her child was a merry girl playing with 
her companions and gathering the bright flowers in the beautiful 
plains of Enna. 


THE £LEEP OP ENDYMIOjt 

One beautiful evening, when the sun was sinking down in 
the West, Selene was wandering on the banks of the River 
Meander; and she thought that of all the places which she had 
ever seen there was none more lovely than the quiet valley 
through which that gentle river was flowing. On her right 
hand rose a hill, whose sides were covered with trees and 
flowers, where the vine clambered over the elm, and the purple 
grapes shone out from amongst the dark leaves. Then Selene 
asked some people who were passing by to tell her the name of 
the hill, and they told her that it was called the hill of Latmos. 
On she went, under the tall trees, whose branches waved over 
her in the clear evening light, till at last she reached the top, and 
looked down on the valley which lay beneath her. Then Selene 
was indeed astonished, for she had never seen anything so beau- 



RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY 


5 l6 

tiful before, even in a dream. She had fancied that nothing 
could be more lovely than the vale ot the Meander, and now she 
saw something far more beautiful than the rocks and stones and 
clear bright water of that winding river. It was a small valley, 
at the bottom of which a lake shone like silver in the light of the 
setting sun. All around it beautiful trees covered the sloping 
banks; and their long branches drooped down over the water. 

Not a breath of wind was 
stirring the dark leaves—not 
a bird was flying in the air. 
Only the large green dragon¬ 
fly floated lazily on the lake, 
while the swan lay half asleep 
on the silvery waters. On 
one side, in the loveliest cor¬ 
ner of the valley, there was a 
marble temple, whose pillars 
shone like the white snow; 
and, leading down to the lake, 
there were steps of marble, 
over which the palm trees 
spread their branches, and 
everywhere were clusters of 
all beautiful flowers, amongst 
which mosses, and ferns, and 
the green ivy were tangled. There was the white narcissus 
and the purple tulip—the dark hyacinth and the soft red rose. 
But more beautiful than all the trees and flowers, a man lay 
sleeping on the marble steps of the temple. It was Endymion, 
who lived in this quiet valley, where the storms never came, and 
where the dark rain-clouds never covered the sides of the moun¬ 
tain. There he lay in the still evening hour; and at first Selene 
thought that it could scarcely be a living man whom she saw, for 






















THE SLEEP OF ENDYMION. 


5 r 7 


he la)^ as still as if he were made of marble himself. And as 
she looked upon him, Selene drew in her breath for wonder; and 
she went gently down the valley till she came to the steps where 
Endymion lay asleep. Presently the sun sank behind the hill, 
and the rich glow of the evening made the silvery lake gleam 
like gold; and Endymion awoke and saw Selene standing near 
him. Then Selene said, u I am wandering over the earth; and 
I may not stay here. Come away, and I will show you larger 
lakes and more glorious valleys than these . 11 But Endymion 
said, Lady, I can not go. There may be lakes which are 
larger, and valleys more splendid than this, but I love this still 
and quiet place, where the storms never come, and the sky is 
never black with clouds. You must not ask me to leave the 
cool shade of these sleeping trees, and the myrtles and roses 
which twine under the tall elms, and these waters, where the 
swans rest in the hot hours of the day and the dragon-fly spreads 
his green and golden wings to the sun . 11 

Many times did Selene ask him, but Endymion would not 
leave his pleasant home; and at last she said, u I can stay no 
more, but if you will not come with me, then you shall sleep on 
these marble steps and never wake up again . 11 So Selene left 
him, and presently a deep sleep came over Endymion, and his 
hands dropped down by his side, and he lay without moving on 
the steps of the temple, while the evening breeze began to stir 
gently the broad leaves of the palm trees, and the lilies which 
bowed their heads over the calm water. There he lay all 
through the still and happy night; and there he lay when the 
sun rose up from the sea, and mounted up with its fiery horses 
into the sky. There was a charm now on this beautiful valley, 
which made the breeze more gentle and the lake more still than 
ever. The green dragon-flies came floating lazily in the air near 
Endymion, but he never opened his eyes; and the swans looked 
up from the lake, to see if he was coming to feed them; but he 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


518 

stirred not in his deep and dreamless 'sleep. There he lay day 
and night, for weeks, and months, and years; and many times,, 
when the sun went down into the sea, Selene came and stood on 
the Latmian hill, and watched Endymion as he lay asleep on the 
marble steps beneath the drooping palm trees; and she said, “ I 
have punished him because he would not leave his home; and 
Endymion sleeps forever in the land of Latmos.” 


PHAETHON. 

In the golden house which Hephaistos had wrought for him 
with his wondrous skill, Helios saw nothing fairer than his son 
Phaethon; and he said to his mother, Klymene, that no mortal 
child might be matched with him for beauty. And Phaethon 
heard the words, and his heart was filled with an evil pride. So- 
he stood before the throne of Helios, and said, u O father, who 
dwellest in the dazzling light, they say that I am thy child; but 
how shall I know it while I live in thy house without name and 
glory? Give me a token, that men may know me to be thy . 
son.” Then Helios bade him speak, and swear to grant his. 
prayer; and Phaethon said, “ I will guide thy chariot for one day 
through the high heaven; bid the Horai make ready the horses 
for me, when Eos spreads her quivering light in the sky.” But 
the heart of Helios was filled with fear, and he besought his son 
with many tears to call back his words. “ O Phaethon, bright 
child of Klymene, for all thy beauty thou art mortal still; and 
the horses of Helios obey no earthly master.” But Phaethon 
harkened not to his words, and hastened away to the dwelling of 
the Horai, who guard the fiery horses. “Make ready for me,”' 
he said, “ the chariot of Helios, for this day I go through the 
high heaven in the stead of my father.” 

The fair-haiVed Eos spread her faint light in the pale sky,. 



PHAETHON. 


5 J 9 


and Lampetie was driving the cattle of Helios to their bright 
pastures, when the Horai brought forth his horses and harnessed 
them to the fiery chariot. With eager hand Phaethon seized the 
reins, and the horses sped upon their way up the heights of the 
blue heaven, until the heart of Phaethon was full of fear and the 
reins quivered in his grasp. Wildly and more madly sped the 
steeds, till at last they hurried from the track which led to the 
Hesperian land. Down from their path they plunged, and drew 
near to the broad plains of earth. Fiercer and fiercer flashed 
the scorching flames; the trees bowed down their withered heads; 
the green grass shriveled on the hillsides; the rivers vanished 
from their slimy beds, and the black vapors rose with smoke 
and fire from the hidden depths of the mighty hills. Then in 
every land the sons of men lay dying on the scorched and gaping 
ground. They looked up to the yellow sky, but the clouds came 
not; they sought the rivers and fountains, but no water glistened 
on their seething beds; and young and old, all lay down in mad¬ 
ness of heart to sleep the sleep of death. 

So sped the horses of Helios on their fiery wanderings, and 
Zeus looked down from his Thessalian hill and saw that all living 
things on the earth must die unless Phaethon should be smitten 
down from his father’s chariot. Then the mighty thunders woke 
in the hot sky which mourned for the clouds that were dead; 
and the streams of lightning rushed forth upon Phaethon, and 
bore him from the blazing heaven far down beneath the waters 
of the green sea. 

But his sisters wept sore for the death of the bright Phaethon, 
and the daughters of Hesperos built his tomb on the sea-shore, 
that all men might remember the name of the son of Helios and 
say, “ Phaethon fell from his father’s chariot, but he lost not his 
glory, for his heart was set upon great things.” 


S 2 ° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


bf(iaf;eo£. 

There was strife in the halls of Olympos, for Zeus had con¬ 
quered the ancient gods, and sat on the throne of his father 
Kronos. In his hand he held the thunderbolts; the lightning 
slumbered at his feet, and around him all the gods trembled for 
the greatness of his power. For he laid hard tasks on all, and 
spoke hard words, and he thought to rule harshly over the gods 

who dwell on the earth and 
in the broad sea. All the day 
long Hermes toiled on weary 
errands to do his will; for 
Zeus sought to crush all 
alike, and remembered not 
the time when he, too, was 
weak and powerless. 

Then were there secret 
whisperings, as the gods of 
earth and sea took counsel 
together; and Poseidon, the 
lord of the dark waters, 
spoke in fierce anger, and 
said, u Hearken to me, Here 
and Athene, and let us rise 
up against Zeus, and teach 
him that he has not power 
over all. See how he bears 
himself in his new majesty 
—how he thinks not of the aid which we gave him in the war 
with his father Kronos—how he has smitten down even the 
mightiest of his friends. For Prometheus, who gave lire to 
mortal men and saved them from biting 1 cold and o-nawino- 
















BRIAREOS. 


5 21 


hunger, lies chained on the crags of Caucasus; and if he shrink 
not to bind the Titan, see that he smite not thee also in his 
wrath, O lady Here.” And Athene said, “ The wisdom of Zeus 
is departed from him, and all his deeds are done now in craft and 
falsehood; let us bind him fast, lest all the heaven and earth be 
filled with strife and war.” So they vowed a vow that they 
would no more bear the tyranny of Zeus; and I lephaistos forged 
strong chains at their bidding to cast around him when sleep lay 
heavy on his eyelids. 

But Thetis heard the words of Poseidon and Athene, as she 
sat beneath the waters in her coral cave, and she rose up like a 
white mist from the sea, and knelt before the throne of Zeus. 
Then she clasped her arms round his knees, and said, u O Zeus, 
the gods tremble at thy might, but the ) 7 love not thy hard words, 
and they say that thy wisdom hath departed from thee, and that 
thou doest all things in craft and falsehood. Hearken to me, O 
Zeus, for Hephaistos hath forged the chain and the lady Here, 
and Poseidon, the lord of the sea, and the pure Athene have 
vowed a vow to bind thee fast when sleep lies heavy on thine 
eyes. Let me therefore go, that I may bring Briareos to aid thee 
with his hundred hands, and when he sits by thy side, then shalt 
thou need no more to fear the wrath of Here and Poseidon. 
And when the peril is past, then, O Zeus, remember that thou 
must rule gently and justly, for that power shall not stand which 
fights with truth and love; and forget not those who aid thee, nor 
reward them as thou hast rewarded Prometheus on the crags of 
Caucasus, for it may be that, in time to come, I may ask a boon 
from thee for Achilleus, my child, who dwells now in the house 
of his father, Peleus; and when that hour shall come, then call to 
mind how in time past I saved thee from *the chains of Hepha¬ 
istos.” 

Then Zeus spoke gently, and said, “ Plasten, Thetis, and 
bring hither the mighty Briareos, that he may guard me with his 


5 22 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


hundred hands, and fear not for the words that thou hast spoken, 
for Zeus will not cast aside good counsel, and the gods shall hate 
me no more for hard and unkindly words.” 

So from the depths of the inmost earth Thetis summoned 
Briareos to the aid of Zeus, and presently his giant form was 
seen in the hall of Olympos, and the gods trembled as he sat 
down by the side of Zeus, exulting in the greatness of his 
strength. And Zeus spoke, and said, “ Hearken to me, O lady 
Here, and Poseidon, and Athene. I know your counsels, and 
how ye purposed to bind me for my evil deeds; but fear not. 
Only do my bidding in time to come, and ye shall no more have 
cause to say that Zeus is a hard and cruel master.” 


DIONYfBOjS. 

In the dark land beneath the earth, where wander the 
ghosts of men, lay Semele, the daughter of Kadmos, while her 
child Dionysos grew up full of strength and beauty on the flowery 
plain of Orchomenos. But the wrath of the lady Here still 
burned alike against the mother and the child. No pity felt 
she for the helpless maiden whom the Aery lightning of Zeus 
had slain; and so in the prison-house of Hades Semele mourned 
for the love which she had lost, waiting till her child should lead 
her forth to the banquet of the gods. But for him the wiles of 
Here boded long toil and grievous peril. On the land and on 
the sea strange things befel him; but from all dangers his own 
strong arm and the love of Zeus, his father, rescued him. Thus 
throughout the land men spake of his beauty and his strength, 
and said that he was worthy to be the child of the maiden who 
had dared to look on the majesty of Zeus. At length the days 
of his youth were ended, and a great yearning Ailed his heart 



DIONYSOS. 


C7 7 

j-S 

to wander through the earth and behold the cities and the ways 
of men. So from Orchomenos Dionysos journeyed to the sea¬ 
shore, and he stood on a jutting rock to gaze on the tumbling 
waters. The glad music of the waves fell upon his ear and 
filled his soul with a wild joy. His dark locks streamed glori¬ 
ously over his shoulders, and his purple robe rustled in the soft 
summer breeze. Before him on the blue waters the ships danced 
merrily in the sparkling sunlight, as they hastened from shore to 
shore on the errands of war and peace. Presently a ship drew 
near to the beach. Her white sail was lowered hastily to the 
deck, and five of her crew leaped out and plunged through the 
sea-foam to the shore, near the rock on which stood Dionysos. 
u Come with us,” they said, with rough voices, as they seized 
him in their brawny arms; u it is not every day that Tyrrhenian 
mariners fall in with youths like thee.” With rude jests they 
dragged him into the ship, and there made ready to bind 
him. “ A brave youth and fair he is,” they said; u we shall not 
lack bidders when we put forth our goods for sale.” So round 
his limbs they fastened stout wifhy bands, but they fell from off 
him as withered leaves fall from off trees in autumn, and a care¬ 
less smile played on his face as he sat down and looked calmly 
on the robbers who stood before him. Then on a sudden the 
voice of the helmsman was heard, as he shouted, “Fools, what 
do ye? The wrath of Zeus is hurrying you to your doom. This 
youth is not of mortal race; and who can tell which of the undy¬ 
ing gods has put on this beautiful form? Send him straightway 
from the ship in peace, if ye fear not a deadly storm as we cross 
the open sea.” Loud laughed the crew, as their chief answered, 
jeeringlv, “ Look out for the breeze, wise helmsman, and draw 
up the sail to the-wind. That is more thy task than to busy 
thyself with our doings. Fear not for the boy. The withy 
bands were but weak; it is no great marvel that he shook them 
off. He shall go with us, and before we reach Egypt or Cyprus 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


5 2 4 

or the land of the Hyperboreans, doubtless he will tell us his 
name and the name of his father and mother. Fear not, we 
have found a godsend.” 

So the sail was drawn up to the mast, and it swelled 
proudly before the breeze as the ship dashed through the crested 
waves. And still the sun shone brightly down on the water, 
and the soft white clouds floated lazily in the heavens, as the 
mighty Dionysos began to show signs and wonders before the 
robbers who had seized him. Over the deck ran a stream oi 
purple wine, and a fragrance as of a heavenly banquet filled the 

t 

air. Over mast and sailyard clambered the clustering vine, and 
dark masses of grapes hung from the branches. The ivy twined 
in tangled masses round the tackling, and bright garlands shone, 
like jeweled crowns, on every oar-pin. Then a great terror fell 
on all, as they cried to the old helmsman, u Quick, turn the ship 
to the shore; there is no hope for us here.” But there followed 
a mightier wonder still. A loud roar broke upon the air, and a 
tawny lion stood before them, with a grim and grizzly bear by 
his side. Cowering like pitiful slaves, the Tyrrhenians crowded 
to the stern, and crouched round the good helmsman. Then the 
lion sprang and seized the chief, and the men leaped in their 
agony over the ship’s side. But the power of Dionysos followed 
them still; and a change came over their bodies as they heard a 
voice; which said,, u In the form of dolphins shall ye wander 
through the sea for many generations. No rest shall }^e have 
by night or by day, while ye fly from the ravenous sharks that 
shall chase you through the seas.” 

t 

But before the old helmsman again stood Dionysos, the 
young and fair, in all the glory of undying beauty. Again his 
dark locks flowed gently over his shoulders, and the purple 
robe rustled softly in the breeze. “ Fear not,” he said, “ good 
friend and true, because thou hast aided one who is sprung from 
the deathless race of the gods. I am Dionysos, the child of 


DIONYSOS. 


525 


Zeus, the lord of the wine-cup and the revel. Thou hast stood 
by me in the hour of peril; wherefore my power shall shield 
thee from the violence of evil men and soothe thee in a green 
old age, till thine eyes close in the sleep of death and thou goest 
forth to dwell among brave heroes and good men in the as¬ 
phodel meadows of Elysium .'’ 1 

Then at the bidding of Dionysos, the north wind came and 
wafted the ship to the land of Egypt, where Proteus was King. 
And so began the long wanderings of the son of Semele, through 
the regions of the Ethiopians and the Indians, towards the rising 
of the sun. Whithersoever he went, the women of the land 
gathered round him with wild cries and songs, and he showed 
them of his secret things, punishing grievously all who set at 
naught the laws which he ordained. So, at his word, Lykurgos, 
the Edonian chieftan, was slain by his people, and none dared 
any more to speak against Dionysos, until he came back to the 
city where Semele, his mother, had been smitten by the light¬ 
nings of Zeus. 


PENTHEU^. 

For many years Dionysos wandered far away from the land 
of his birth; and wherever he went he taught the people of the 
country to worship him as a god, and showed them strange rites. 
Far away he roamed, to the regions where the Ganges rolls his 
mighty stream into the Indian Sea, and where the Nile brings 
every year rich gifts from the southern mountains. And in all 
the lands to which he came he made the women gather round 
him and honor him with wild cries and screams and marvelous 
customs such as they had never known before. As he went 
onwards the face of the land was changed. The women grouped 
themselves in companies far away from the sight of men, and, 



526 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


high up on the barren hills or clown in the narrow valleys, with 
wild movements and fierce shoutings, paid honor to Dionysos, 
the lord of the wine-cup and the feast. At length, through the 
Thracian highlands and the soft plains of Thessaly, Dionysos 
came back to The.bes, where he had been born amid the roar 
of the thunder and the blaze of the fiery lightning. Kadmos, 
the King, who had built the city, was now old and weak, and he 
had made Pentheus, the child of his daughter Agave, King in his 
stead. So Pentheus sought to rule the people well, as his father 
Kadmos had done, and to train them in the old laws, that they 
might be quiet in the days of peace, and orderly and brave in 
war. 

Thus it came to pass that when Dionysos came near to 
Thebes, and commanded all the people to receive the new rites, 
which he sought to teach them, it grieved Pentheus at 
the heart; and when he saw how the women seemed smitten 

with madness, and that they 
wandered away in groups to 
desert places, where they lurked 
for many days and nights, far 
from the sight of men, he 
mourned for the evils which 
his kinsman, Dionysos, was bring¬ 
ing upon the land. So King 
Pentheus made a law that none 
should follow these new cus¬ 
toms, and that the women should 
stay quietly doing their own 
work in their homes. But when 
they heard this, they were all 
full of fury, for Dionysos had 
deceived them by his treacherous words, and even Kadmos him¬ 
self, in his weakness and old age, had been led astray by them. 



vulcan (or Ilephaistos). 

















PENTHEUS. 


5 2 7 


In crowds they thronged around the house of Pentheus, raising 
loud shouts in honor of Dionysos, and besought him to follow 
the new way, but he would not hearken to them. 

Thus it was for many days; and when all the city was 
shaken by the madness of the new worship, Pentheus thought 
that he would see with his own eyes the strange rites by which 
the women, in their lurking-places, did honor to Dionysos. So 
he went secretly to some hidden dells, whither he knew that the 
women had gone; but Dionysos saw him and laid his hands upon 
him, and straightway the mind of King Pentheus himself was 
darkened, and the madness of the worshipers was upon him, 
also. Then in his folly he climbed a tall pine-tree, to see what 
the women did in their revelry; but on a sudden one of them 
saw him, and they shrieked wildly and rooted up the tree in their 
fury. With one accord they seized Pentheus and tore him in 
pieces; and his own mother, Agave, was among the first to lay 
hands on her son. So Dionysos, the wine god, triumphed; and 
this was the way in which the new worship was set up in the 
Hellenic land. 


AjBKLEPIOjS. 

On the shores of the Lake Boibeis, the golden-haired Apollo 
saw and loved Koronis, the beautiful daughter of Phlegyas. 
Manv a time they wandered beneath the branching elms while 
the dew-drops glistened like jewels on the leaves, or sat beneath 
the ivy bowers as the light of evening faded from the sky and 
the blue veil of mist fell upon the sleeping hills. But at length 
the day came when Apollo must journey to the western land, and 
as he held Koronis in his arms, his voice fell softly and sadly on 
her ear. “I go,” he said, “to a land that is very far off, but 
surely I will return. More precious to me than aught else on 



5 28 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


the wide earth is thy love, Koronis. Let not its flower fade, but 
keep it fresh and pure as now, till I come to thee again. The 
dancing Horai trip quickly by, Koronis, and when they bring the 
day on which I may clasp thee in mine arms once more, it may 
be that I shall find thee watching proudly over the child of our 
love.” 

He was gone, and for Koronis it seemed as though the sun 
had ceased to shine in the heaven. For many a day she cared 
not to wander by the winding shore in the light of early morning, 
or to rest in the myrtle bowers as the flush of evening faded from 
the sky. Her thoughts went back to the days that were passed, 
when Apollo, the golden-haired, made her glad with the music 
of his voice. But at length a stranger came to the Boibean 
land, and dwelt in the house of Phlegyas, and the spell of his 
glorious beauty fell upon Koronis, and dimmed the love which 
she had borne for Apollo, who was far away. Again for her the 
sun shone brightly in the heaven, and the birds filled the air with 
a joyous music, but the tale went swiftly through the land, and 
Apollo heard the evil tidings as he journeyed back with his sister, 
Artemis, to the house of Phlegyas. A look of sorrow that may 
not be told passed over his fair face; but Artemis stretched forth 
her hand towards the flashing sun and swore that the maiden 
should rue her fickleness. Soon, on the shore of the Lake 
Boibeis, Koronis lay smitten by the spear which may never miss 
its mark, and her child, Asklepios, lay a helpless babe by her 
side. Then the voice of Apollo was heard saying, “ Slay not the 
child with the mother, he is born to do great things, but bear 
him to the wise centaur, Cheiron, and bid him train the boy in 
all his wisdom, and teach him to do brave deeds, that men may 
praise his name in the generations that shall be hereafter.” 

So in the deep glens ot Pelion the child, Asklepios, grew up 
to manhood under the teaching of Cheiron, the wise and good. 
In all the land there was none that might vie with him in strength 


ASKLEPIOS. 


529 


of body; but the people marveled yet more at his wisdom, which 
passed the wisdom of the sons of men, for he had learned the 
power of every herb and leaf to stay the pangs of sickness and 
bring back health to the wasted form. Day by day the fame of 
his doings was spread abroad more widely through the land, so 
that all who were sick hastened to Asklepios and besought his 
help. But soon there went forth a rumor that the strength of 
death had been conquered by him, and that Athene, the mighty 
daughter of Zeus, had taught Asklepios how to bring back the 
dead from the dark kingdom of Hades. Then, as the number 
ol those whom he brought from the gloomy Stygian land in¬ 
creased more and more, Hades went in hot anger to Olympos, 
and spoke bitter words against the son of Koronis, so that the 
heart of Zeus was stirred with a great fear lest the children of 
men should be delivered from death and defy the power of the 
gods. Then Zeus bowed his head, and the lightnings flashed 
from heaven, and Asklepios was smitten down by the scathing 
thunderbolt. 

Mighty and terrible was the grief that stirred the soul of 
the golden-haired Apollo when his son was slain. The sun 
shone dimly from the heaven; the birds were silent in the dark¬ 
ened groves; the trees bowed down their heads in sorrow, and 
the hearts of all the sons of men fainted within them, because 
the healer of their pains and sickness lived no more upon the 
earth. But the wrath of Apollo was mightier than his grief, and 
he smote the giant Cyclopes, who shaped the fiery lightnings far 
down in the depths of the burning mountain. Then the anger 
of Zeus was kindled against his own child, the golden-haired 
Apollo, and he spake the word that he should be banished from 
the home of the gods to the dark Stygian land. But the lady 
Leto fell at his knees and besought him for her child, and the 
doom was given that a whole year long he should serve as a 
bondsman in the house of Admetos, who ruled in Pherai. 

34 


53° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


ixioji 


Fair as the blushing clouds which float in early morning 
across the blue heaven, the beautiful Dia gladdened the hearts of all 

who dwelt in the house of 
her father Hesioneus. 
There was no guile in her 
soft clear eye, for the light 
of Eos was not more pure 
than the light of the maid¬ 
en’s countenance. There 
was no craft in her smile, 
for on her rested the love 
and the wisdom of Athene. 
Many a chieftain sought to 
win her for his bride; but 
her heart beat with love 
only for Ixion the beauti¬ 
ful and mighty, who came 
to the halls of Hesioneus 
with horses which can not 
grow old or die. The 
golden hair flashed a glory 
from his head dazzling as 
the rays which stream from 
Helios when he drives his 
chariot up the heights of 
heaven, and his flowing 
robe glistened as he moved 
like the vesture which the 
sun-god gave to the wise 

Minerva, or pallas ATHENE. (Found in Pompeii.) ma -lden Medeia, who dwelt 

in Kolchis. 

Long time Ixion abode in the house of Hesioneus, for 



[gTnil Gg [sb] ETol E3 SI 

















































































IXION. 


53 1 


Hesioneus was loth to part with his child. But at the last 
Ixion sware to give for her a ransom precious as the golden 
fruits which Helios wins from the teeming earth. So the 
word was spoken, and Dia the fair became the wife of the 
son ot Amythaon, and the undying horses bare her away in 
his gleaming chariot. Many a day and month and year the 
fiery steeds of Helios sped on their burning path, and sank 
down hot and wearied in the western sea; .but no gifts came 
from Ixion, and Hesioneus waited in vain for the wealth which 
had tempted him to barter away his child. Messenger after 
messenger went and came, and always the tidings were that 
Ixion had better things to do than to waste his wealth on the 
mean and greedy. u Tell him,” he said, u that every day I 
journey across the wide earth, gladdening the hearts of the 
children of men, and that his child has now a more glorious 
home than that of the mighty gods who dwell on the high 
Olympos. What would he have more?” Then day by day 
Hesioneus held converse with himself, and his people heard the 
words which came sadly from his lips. “ What would I more?” 
he said; “ I would have the love of my child. I let her depart, 
when not the wealth of Phoebus himself could recompense me 
for her loss. I bartered her for gifts, and Ixion withholds the 
wealth which he sware to give. Yet were all the riches of his 
treasure-house lying now before me, one loving glance from the 
eyes of Dia would be more than worth them all.” 

But when his messengers went yet again to plead with Ixion, 
and their words were all spoken in vain, Hesioneus resolved to 
deal craftily, and he sent his servants by night and stole the 
undying horses which bare his gleaming chariot. Then the 
heart of Ixion was humbled within him, for he said, “ My peo¬ 
ple look for me daily throughout the wide earth. If they see 
not my face their souls will faint with fear; they will not care to 
sow their fields, and the golden harvests of Demeter will wave 


i 


53 2 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


no more in the summer breeze.” So there came messengers 
from Ixion, who said, u If thou wouldst have the wealth which 
thou seekest, come to the house of Ixion, and the gifts shall be 
thine, and thine eyes shall once more look upon thy child.” In 
haste Hesioneus went forth from his home, like a dark and 
lonely cloud stealing across the broad heaven. All night long he 
sped upon his way, and, as the light of Eos flushed the eastern 
sky he saw afar off the form of a fair woman who beckoned to 
him with her long white arms. Then the heart of the old man 
revived, and he said, “ It is Dia, my child. It is enough if I can 
but hear her voice and clasp her in mine arms and die.” But 
his limbs trembled for joy, and he waited until presently his 
daughter came and stood beside him. On her face there rested 
a softer beauty than in former days, and the sound of her voice 
was more tender and loving, as she said, u My father, Zeus has 
made clear to me many dark things, for he has given me power 
to search out the secret treasures of the earth, and to learn from 
the wise beings who lurk in its hidden places the things that 
shall be hereafter. And now I see that thy life is well-nigh done, 
if thou seekest to look upon the treasures of Ixion, for no man 
may gaze upon them and live. Go back, then, to thy home if 
thou wouldst not die. I would that I might come with thee, but 
so it may not be. Each day I must welcome Ixion when his 
fiery horses come back from their long journey, and every morn¬ 
ing I must harness them to his gleaming chariot before he speeds 
upon his way. Yet thou hast seen my face and thou knowest that 
I love thee now even as in the days of my childhood.” But the 
old greed filled again the heart of Hesioneus, and he said, “ The 
faith of Ixion is pledged. If he withhold still the treasures which 
he sware to give, he shall never more see the deathless horses. 

I will go myself into his treasure-house, and see whether in very 
truth he has the wealth of which he makes such proud boasting.” 
Then Dia clasped her arms once again around her father, and 


IXION 


533 


she kissed his face, and said, sadly, u Farewell, then, my father; 
I go to my home, for even the eyes of Dia may not gaze on the 
secret treasures of Ixion.” So Dia left him, and when the old 
man turned to look on her departing form it faded from his sight 
as the clouds melt away before the sun at noon-day. Yet, once 
again he toiled on his way, until before his glorious home he saw 
Ixion, radiant as Phoebus Apollo in his beauty; but there was 
anger in his kindling eye, for he was wroth for the theft of his 
undying horses. Then the voice of Ixion smote the ear of 
Hesioneus, harsh as the flapping of the wings of Erinys when 
she wanders through the air. “ So thou wilt see my secret 
treasures. Take heed that thy sight be strong.” But Hesioneus 
spake in haste, and said, u Thy faith is pledged, not only to let 
me see them, but to bestow them on me as my own, for there¬ 
fore didst thou win Dia my child to be thy wife.” Then Ixion 
opened the door of his treasure-house and thrust in Hesioneus, 
and the everlasting fire devoured him. 

But far above, in the pure heaven, Zeus beheld the deed of 
Ixion, and the tidings were sent abroad to all the gods of Olym- 
pos, and to all the sons of men, that Ixion had slain Hesioneus 
by craft and guile. A horror of great blackness fell on the 
heaven above and the earth beneath for the sin of which Zeus 
alone can purge away the guilt. Once more Dia made ready 
her husband’s chariot, and once more he sped on his fiery jour¬ 
ney; but all men turned away their faces, and the trees bowed 
their scorched and withered heads to the ground. The flowers 
drooped sick on their stalks and died, the corn was kindled like 
dried stubble on the earth, and Ixion said within himself, “My 
sin is great; men will not look upon my face as in the old time, 
and the gods of Olympos will not cleanse my hands from the 
guilt of my treacherous deed.” So he went straightway and 
fell down humbly before the throne of Zeus, and said, “ O thou 
that dwellest in the pure sether far above the dark cloud, my 


534 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


hands are foul with blood, and thou alone canst cleanse them; 
therefore purge mine iniquity, lest all living things die through¬ 
out the wide earth . 17 

Then the undying gods were summoned to the judgment- 
seat of Zeus. By the side of the son of Kronos stood Hermes, 
ever bright and fair, the messenger who flies on his golden 
sandals more swiftly than a dream; but fairer and more glorious 
than all who stood near his throne was the lady Here, the queen 
of the blue heaven. On her brow rested the majesty of Zeus 
and the glory of a boundless love which sheds gladness on the 
teeming earth and the broad sea. And even as he stood before 
the judgment-seat, the eyes of Ixion rested with a strange yearn¬ 
ing on her undying beauty, and he scarce heard the words which 
cleansed him from Blood-guiltiness. 

So Ixion tarried in the house of Zeus, far above in the pure 
aether, where only the light clouds weave a fairy net-work at the 
rising and setting of the sun. Day by day his glance rested 
more warm and loving on the countenance of the lady Here, 
and Zeus saw that her heart, too, was kindled by a strange love, so 
that a fierce wrath was stirred within him. 

Presently he called Hermes, the messenger, and said, “ Bring 
up from among the children of Nephele one who shall wear the 
semblance of the lady Here, and place her in the path of Ixion 
when he wanders forth on the morrow.” So Hermes sped away 
on his errand, and on that day Ixion spake secretly with Here, 
and tempted her to fly from the house of Zeus. “ Come with 
me,” he said; “the winds of heaven can not vie in speed with my 
deathless horses, and the palace of Zeus is but as the house of 
the dead by the side of my glorious home.” Then the heart of 
Ixion bounded with a mighty delight, as he heard the words of 
Here. u To-morrow I will meet thee in the land of the children 
of Nephele . 11 So on the morrow when the light clouds had 
spread their fairy net-work over the heaven, Ixion stole away 


IXION. 


535 


from the house of Zeus to meet the lady Here. As he went, 
the fairy web faded from the sky, and it seemed to him that the 
lady Here stood before him in all her beauty. u Here, great 
queen of the unstained heaven,” he said, “ come with me, for I 
am worthy of thy love, and I quail not for all the majesty of 
Zeus.” But even as he stretched forth his arms, the bright form 
vanished away. The crashing thunder rblled through the sky, 
and he heard the voice of Zeus saying, “ I cleansed thee from 
thy guilt, I sheltered thee in my home, and thou hast dealt with 
me treacherously, as thou didst before with Ilesioneus. Thou 
hast sought the love of Here, but the maiden which stood before 
thee was but a child of Nephele, whom Hermes brought hither to 
cheat thee with the semblance of the wife of Zeus. Wherefore 
hear thy doom. No more shall thy deathless horses speed with 
thy glistening chariot over the earth, but high in the heaven a 
blazing wheel shall bear thee through the rolling years, and the 
doom shall be on thee for ever and ever,” 

So was Ixion bound on the fiery-wheel, and the sons of men 
see the flashing spokes day by day as it whirls in the high heaven. 


TAJNTAL0J3. 

Beneath the mighty rocks of Sipylos stood the palace of 
Tantalos, the Phrygian King, gleaming with the blaze of gold 
and jewels. Its burnished roofs glistened from afar like the rays 
which dance on ruffled waters. Its marble columns flashed with 
hues rich as the hues of purple clouds which gather round the 
sun as he sinks down in the sky. And far and wide was known 
the name of the mighty chieftain, who was wiser than all the 
sons of mortal men; for his wife, Euryanassa, they said, came of 
the race of the undying gods, and to Tantalos Zeus had given 
the power of Helios, that he might know his secret counsels and 



53 6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


see into the hidden things of earth and air and sea. Many a 
time, so the people said, he held converse with Zeus himself in 
his home, on the high Olympos, and day by day his wealth in¬ 
creased, his flocks and herds multiplied exceedingly, and in his 
fields the golden corn waved like a sunlit sea. 

But, as the years rolled round, there were dark sayings 
spread abroad, that the wisdom of Tantalos was turned to craft, 
and that his wealth and power were used for evil ends. Men 
said that he had sinned like Prometheus, the Titan, and had 
stolen from the banquet-hall of Zeus the food and drink of the 
gods, and given them to mortal men. And tales yet more 
strange were told, how that Panderos brought to him the hound 
which Rhea placed in the cave of Dikte to guard the child, Zeus, 
and how, when Hermes bade him yield up the dog, Tantalos 
laughed him to scorn, and said, u Dost thou ask me for the 
hound which guarded Zeus in the days of his childhood? It were 
as well to ask me for the unseen breeze which sounds through 
the groves of Sipylos.” 

Then, last of all, men spake in whispers of a sin yet more 
fearful, which Tantalos had sinned, and the tale was told that 
Zeus and all the gods came down from Olympos to feast in his 
banquet-hall, and how, when the red wine sparkled in the golden 
goblets, Tantalos placed savory meat before Zeus, and bade him 
eat of a costly food, and, when the feast was ended, told him that 
in the dish had lain the limbs of the child Pelops, whose sunny 
smile had gladdened the hearts of mortal men. Then came the 
day of vengeance, for Zeus bade Hermes bring back Pelops 
again from the kingdom of Hades to the land of living men, and 
on Tantalos was passed a doom which should torment him for 
ever and ever. In the shadowy region where wander the ghosts 
of men, Tantalos, they said, lay prisoned in a beautiful garden, 
gazing on bright flowers and glistening fruits and laughing 
waters, but for all that his tongue was parched, and his limbs 


TANTALOS 


537 


were faint with hunger. No drop of water might cool his lips* 
no luscious fruit might soothe his agony. If he bowed his head 
to drink, the water fled away; if he stretched forth his hand to 
pluck the golden apples, they would vanish like mists before 
the face of the rising sun, and in place of ripe fruits glistening 



ANCIENT SCULPTURING ON TANTALOS. 

among green leaves, a mighty rock beetled above his head, as 
though it must fall and grind him to powder. Wherefore men 
say, when the cup of pleasure is dashed from the lips of those 
who would drink of it, that on them has fallen the doom of the 
Phrygian Tantalos. 



















































538 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


THE TOIL£ Of HERAKLEJ5. 

By the doom of his father Zeus, Herakles served in Argos 
the false and cruel Eurystheus. For so it was that Zeus spake 
of the birth of Herakles to Here, the Queen, and said, “ This day 
shall a child be born of the race of Perseus, who shall be the 
mightiest of the sons of men.” Even so he 
spake, because Ate had deceived him by her 
evil counsel. And Here asked whether this 
should be so in very deed, and Zeus bowed 
his head, and the word went forth which 
could not be recalled. Then Here went to 
the mighty Eileithyiai, and by their aid she 
brought it about that Eurystheus was born 
before Herakles the son of Zeus. 

So the lot was fixed that all his life long 
Herakles should toil at the will of a weak 
and crafty master. Brave in heart and stout 
of body, so that no man might be matched 
with him for strength or beauty, yet was he 
to have no profit of all his labor till he should 
come to the land of the undying gods. But 

, ; urania (Muse of Astron- 

it grieved Zeus that the craft ot Here, the omy). 

Queen, had brought grievous wrong on his child, and he cast 
forth Ate from the halls of Olympos, that she might no more 
dwell among the gods. Then he spake the word that Herakles 
should dwell with the gods in Olympos, as soon as the days of 
his toil on earth should be ended. 

Thus the child grew in the house of Amphitryon, full of 
beauty and might, so that men marveled at his great strength; 
for as he lay one day sleeping, there came two serpents into the 
chamber, and twisted their long coils round the cradle, and 

































































THE TOILS OF HERAKLES. 


539 


peered upon him with their cold glassy eyes, till the sound of 
their hissing woke him from his slumber. But Herakles trem¬ 
bled not for fear, but he stretched forth his arms and placed his 
hands on the serpents 1 necks, and tightened his grasp more and 
more till they fell dead on the ground. Then all knew by this 
sign that Herakles must do great things and suffer many sorrows, 
but that in the end he should win the victory. So the child 
waxed great and strong, and none could be matched with him 
for strength of arm and swiftness of foot and in taming of 
horses and in wrestling. The best men in Argos were his teach¬ 
ers, and the wise centaur Cheiron was his friend, and taught him 
ever to help the weak and take their part against any who op¬ 
pressed them. So, for all his great strength, none were more 
gentle than Herakles, none more full of pity for those who were 
bowed down by pain and labor. 

But it was a sore grief to Herakles that all his life long he 
must toil for Eurystheus, while others were full of joy and pleas¬ 
ure and feasted at tables laden with good things. And so it 
came to pass that one day, as he thought of these things, he sat 
down by the wayside, where two paths met, in a lonely valley 
far away from the dwellings of men. Suddenly, as he lifted up 
his eyes, he saw two women coming towards him, each from a 
different road. They were both fair to look upon; but the one 
had a soft and gentle face, and she was clad in a seemly robe of 
pure white. The other looked boldly at Ileiakles, and her face 
was more ruddy, and her eyes shone with a hot and restless 
glare. From her shoulders streamed the long folds of her soft 
embroidered robe, which scantily hid the beauty of her form 
beneath. With a quick and eager step she hastened to Herakles, 
that she might be the first to speak. And she •said, u I know, 
O man of much toil and sorrow, that thy heart is sad within 
thee, and that thou knowest not which wa] thou shalt turn. 
Come then with me, and I will lead thee on a soft and pleasant 


54 ° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


road, where no storms shall vex thee and no sorrows shall trouble 
thee. Thou shalt never hear of wars and battles, and sickness, 
and pain shall not come nigh to thee; but all day long shalt thou 
feast at rich banquets and listen to the songs of minstrels. Thou 
shalt not want for sparkling wine, and soft robes, and pleasant 
couches; thou shalt not lack the delights of love, for the bright 
eyes of maidens shall look gently upon thee, and their songs shall 
lull thee to sleep in the soft evening hour, when the stars come 
out in the sky .’ 1 And Herakles said, “ Thou promisest to me 
pleasant things, lady, and I am sorely pressed down by a hard 
master. What is thy name?” u My friends,” said she, u call 
me the happy and joyous one; and they who look not upon me 
with love have given me an evil name, but they speak falsely.”’ 

Then the other spake, and said, u O Herakles, I, too, know 
whence thou art, and the doom which is laid upon thee, and how 
thou hast lived and toiled even from the days of thy childhood;; 
and therefore I think that thou wilt give me thy love, and if thou, 
dost, then men shall speak of thy good deeds in time to come, 
and my name shall be yet more exalted. But I have no fair 
words wherewith to cheat thee. Nothing good is ever reached 
without labor; nothing great is ever won without toil. If thou 
seek for fruit from the earth thou must tend and till it; if thou 
wouldst have the favor of the undying gods thou must come be¬ 
fore them with prayers and offerings; if thou longest for the love 
of men thou must do them good.” Then the other brake in, 
upon her words, and said, u Thou seest, Herakles, that Arete- 
seeks to lead thee on a long and weary path, but my broad and 
easy road leads thee quickly to happiness.” Then Arete an¬ 
swered her (and her eye flashed with anger), “ O wretched one,, 
what good thing hast thou to give, and what pleasure canst thon 
feel, who knowest not what it is to toil? Thy lusts are pam¬ 
pered, thy taste is dull. Thou quaflest the rich wine before thou- 
art thirsty, and fillest thyself with dainties before thou art hun- 


THE TOILS OF HERAKLES. 


54 1 


gry. Though thou art numbered amongst the undying ones the 
gods have cast thee forth out of heaven, and good men scorn 
thee. The sweetest of all sounds, when a man’s heart praises 
him, thou hast never heard; the sweetest of all sights, when a 
man looks on his good deeds, thou has never seen. They who 
bow down to thee are weak and feeble in youth, and wretched 
and loathsome in old age. But I dwell with the gods in heaven 
and with good men on earth; and without me nothing good and 
pure may be thought and done. More than all others am I hon¬ 
ored by the gods, more than all others am I cherished by the 
men who love me. In peace and in war, in health and in sick¬ 
ness, I am the aid of all who seek me; and my help never fails. 
My children know the purest of all pleasures, when the hour of 
rest comes after the toil of day. In youth they are strong, and 
their limbs are quick with health; in old age they look back 
upon a happy life; and when they lie down to the sleep of death 
their name is cherished among men for their brave and good 
deeds. Love me, therefore, Herakles, and obey my words, and 
thou shalt dwell with me, when thy toil is ended, in the home of 
the undying gods.” 

Then Herakles bowed down his head and sware to follow 
her counsels; and when the two maidens passed away from his 
sight he went forth with a good courage to his labor and suffer¬ 
ing. In many a land he sojourned and toiled to do the will of 
the false Eurystheus. Good deeds he did for the sons of men; 
but he had no profit of all his labor, save the love of the gentle 
Iole. Far away in CEchalia, where the sun rises from the east¬ 
ern sea, he saw the maiden in the halls of Eurytos, and sought 
to win her love. But the word which Zeus spake to Here, the 
Queen, gave him no rest; and Eurystheus sent him forth to other 
lands, and he saw the maiden no more. 

But Herakles toiled on with a good heart, and soon the 
glory of his great deeds were spread abroad throughout all the 


54 2 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


earth. Minstrels sang how he slew the monsters and savage 
beasts who vexed the sons of men, how he smote the Hydra in 
the land of Lernai, and the wild boar, which haunted the groves 
of Erymanthos, and the Harpies, who lurked in the swamps of 
Stymphalos. They told how he wandered far away to the land 
of the setting sun, when Eurystheus bade him pluck the golden 
apples from the garden of the Elesperides—how, over hill and 
dale, across marsh and river, through thicket and forest, he came 
to the western sea, and crossed to the African land, where Atlas 
lifts up his white head to the high heaven—how he smote the 
dragon which guarded the brazen gates, and brought the apples 
to King Eurystheus. They sang of his weary journey, when he 
roamed through the land of the Ethiopians and came to the wild 
and desolate heights of Caucasus—how he saw a giant form 
high on the naked rock, and the vulture which gnawed the 
Titan’s heart with its beak. They told how he slew the bird, 
and smote off the cruel chains, and set Prometheus free. They 
sang how Eurystheus laid on him a fruitless task, and sent him 
down to the dark land of King Hades to bring up the monster, 
Kerberos; how, upon the shore of the gloomy Acheron, he found 
the mighty hound who guards the home of Hades and Perseph¬ 
one; how he seized him in his strong right hand and bore him 
to King Eurystheus. They sang of the days when he toiled in 
the land of Queen Omphale, beneath the Libyan sun; how he 
destroyed the walls of Ilion when Laomedon was King, and how 
he went to Kalydon and wooed and won Deianeira, the daughter 
of the chieftain, Oineus. 

Long time he abode in Kalydon, and the people ol the land 
loved him for his kindly deeds. But one day his spear smote the 
boy, Eunomos, and his father was not angry, because he knew 
that Herakles sought not to slay him. Yet Herakles would go 
forth from the land, for his heart was grieved for the death of 
the child. So he journeyed to the banks of the Evenos, where 





THE TOILS OF HERAKLES. 


543 


he smote the centaur, Nessos, because he sought to lav hands on 
Deianeira. Swiftly the poison from the barb of the spear ran 
through the centaur’s veins; but Nessos knew how to avenge him¬ 
self on Herakles, and with a faint voice he besought Deianeira to 
till a shell with his blood, so that, if ever she lost the love of 
Herakles, she might win it again by spreading it on a robe for 
him to wear. 

So Nessos died, and Herakles went to the land of Trachis, 
and there Deianeira abode while he journeyed to the eastern sea. 
Many times the moon waxed and waned in the heaven, and the 
corn sprang up from the ground and gave its golden harvest, but 
Herakles came not back. At last the tidings came how he had 
done great deeds in distant lands, how Eurytos, the King of 
CEchalia, was slain, and how, among the captives, was the daugh¬ 
ter of the King, the fairest of all the maidens of the land. 

Then the words of Nessos came back to Deianeira, and she 
hastened to anoint a broidered robe, for she thought only that 
the love of Herakles had passed away from her, and that she 
must win it to herself again. So with words of love and honor, 
she sent the gift for Herakles to put on, and \ he messenger found 
him on the Keneian shore, where he was offering rich sacrifice to 
Zeus, his father, and gave him the broidered robe in token of 
the love of Deianeira. Then Herakles wrapt it closely round 
him, and he stood by the altar while the dark smoke went up in 
a thick cloud to the heaven. Presently the vengeance of Nessos 
was accomplished. Through the veins of Herakles the poison 
spread like devouring fire. Fiercer and fiercer grew the burning 
pain, and Herakles vainly strove to tear the robe and cast it from 
him. It ate into the flesh, and as he struggled in his agony, the 
dark blood gushed from his body in streams. Then came the 
maiden Iole to his side. With her gentle hands she sought 
to soothe his pain, and with pitying words to cheer him 
in his woe. Then once more the face of Herakles flushed with 


544 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY 


a deep joy, and his eye glanced with a pure light, as in the days 
of his might and strength, and he said, “ Ah, Iole, brightest of 
maidens, thy voice shall cheer me as I sink down in the sleep of 
death. I loved thee in the bright morning time, when my hand 

was strong and my 
foot swift, but Zeus 
willed not that thou 
shouldst be with me 
in my long wander¬ 
ings. Yet 1 grieve 
not now, for again 
thou hast come, 
fair as the s o f t 
clouds which gather 
round the dying 
sun.” Then Her- 
akles bade them 
bear him to the high 
crest of Oita and 
gather wood. So 
when all was ready, 
he lay down to rest, 
and they kindled the 
great pile. The 
black mists were 
spreading over the 
sky, but still Hera- 
kles sought to gaze 
on the fair face of 
Iole and to comfort 

her in her sorrow. “ Weep not, Iole,” he said, “my toil is done, 
and now is the time for rest. I shall see thee again in the bright 
land which is never trodden by the feet of night.” 



jupiter (or Zeus with his Thunderbolt). 













































































































































THE TOILS OF HERAKLES. 


545 


Blacker and blacker grew the evening shades, and only the 
long line of light broke the darkness which gathered round the 
blazing pile. Then from the high heaven came down the thick 
cloud, and the din ot its thunder crashed through the air. So 
Zeus carried his child home, and the halls ot Olympos were 
opened to welcome the bright hero who rested from his mighty 
toil. There the lair maiden, Arete, placed a crown upon his 
head, and Hebe clothed him in a white robe for the banquet of 
the gods. 


ADMETOg. 

There was high feasting in the halls of Pheres, because 
Admetos, his son, had brought home Alkestis, the fairest of all 
the daughters of Pelias, to be his bride. The minstrels sang of 
the glories of the house of Pherai, and of the brave deeds of 
Admetos—how, by the aid of the golden-haired Apollo, he had 
yoked the lion and the boar, and made them drag his chariot to 
Iolkos, for Pelias had said that only to one who came thus would 
he give his daughter, Alkestis, to be his wife. So the sound of 
mirth and revelry echoed through the' hall, and the red wine was 
poured forth in honor of Zeus and all the gods, each by his 
name, but the name of Artemis was forgotten, and her wrath 
burned sore against the house ot Admetos. 

But one, mightier yet than Artemis, was nigh at hand to aid 
him, for Apollo, the son of Leto, served as a bondman in the 
house of Pheres, because he had slain the Cyclopes, who forged 
the thunderbolts of Zeus. No mortal blood flowed in his veins, 
but, though he could neither grow old nor die, nor could any of 
the sons of men do him hurt, yet all loved him for his gentle 
dealing, for all things had prospered in the land from the day 
when he came to the house of Admetos. And so it came to pass 

35 




54 6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


that when the sacrifice of the marriage feast was ended, he spake 
toAdmetos, arid said, “ The anger of Artemis, my sister, is kin¬ 
dled against thee, and it may be that she will smite thee with her 
spear, which can never miss its mark. But thou hast been to 
me a kind task-master, and though I am here as thy bond-ser¬ 
vant, yet have I power still with my father, Zeus, and I have 
obtained for thee this boon, that, if thou art smitten by the spear 
of Artemis, thou shalt not die, if thou canst find one who in thy 
stead will go down to the dark kingdom of Hades.’’ 

Many a time the sun rose up into the heaven and sank down 
to sleep beneath the western waters, and still the hours went by 
full of deep joy to Admetos and his wife, Alkestis, for their 
hearts were knit together in a pure love, and no cloud of strife 
spread its dark shadow over their souls. Once only Admetos 
spake to her of the words of Apollo, and Alkestis answered with 
a smile, “Where is the pain of death, my husband, for those 
who love truly? Without thee I care not to live; wherefore, to 
die for thee will be a boon.” 

Once again there was high feasting in the house of Admetos, 
for Herakles, the mighty son of Alkmene, had come thither as 
he journeyed through many lands, doing the will of the false 
Eurystheus. But, even as the minstrels sang the praises of the 
chieftains of Pherai, the flush of life faded from the face of 
Admetos, and he felt that the hour of which Apollo had warned 
him was come. But soon the blood came back tingling- through 
his veins, when he thought of the sacrifice which alone could 
save him from the sleep of death. Yet what will not a man do 
for his life? and how shall he withstand when the voice of love 
pleads on his side? So once again the fair Alkestis looked lov¬ 
ingly upon him, as she said, u There is no darkness for me in 
the land of Hades, if only I die for thee,” and even as she spake 
the spell passed from Admetos, and the strength of the daughter 
of Pelias ebbed slowly away. 


ADMETOS. 


547 


The sound of mirth and feasting was hushed. The harps 
of the minstrels hung silent on the wall, and men spake in whis¬ 
pering voices, for the awful Moirai were at hand to bear Alkestis 
to the shadowy kingdom. On the couch lay her fair form, pale 
as the white lily which floats on the blue water, and beautiful as 
Eos when her light dies out of the sky in the evening. Yet a 
little while, and the strife was ended, and Admetos mourned in 
bitterness and shame for the love which he had lost. 

Then the soul of the brave Herakles was stirred within him, 
and he sware that the Moirai should not win the victory. So he 
departed in haste, and far away in the unseen land he did battle 
with the powers of death, and rescued Alkestis from Hades, the 
stern and rugged King. 

So once more she stood before Admetos, more radiant in 
her beauty than in former days, and once more in the halls of 
Pherai echoed the- sound of high rejoicing, and the minstrels 
sang of the mighty deeds of the good and brave Herakles, as he 
went on his way from the home of Admetos to do in other lands 
the bidding of the fair mean Eurystheus. 


EPIJVlETHJiUJS y\JMD PANDORA. 

There was strife between Zeus and men, for Prometheus 
stood forth on their side and taught them how they might with¬ 
stand the new god who sat on the throne of Kronos; and he 
said, u O men, Zeus is greedy of riches and honor, and your 
flocks and herds will be wasted with burnt-offerings if ye offer 
up to Zeus the whole victim. Come and let us make a covenant 
with him, that there may be a fair portion for him and for men. 1 ’ 
So Prometheus chose out a large ox, and slew him and divided 
the body. Under the skin he placed the entrails and the flesh, 



54 « 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


and under the fat he placed the bones. Then he said, u Choose 
thy portion, O Zeus, and let that on which thou layest thine 
hands be thy share forever. 1 ’ So Zeus stretched forth his hand 
in haste, and placed it upon the fat, and tierce was his wrath 
when he found only the bare bones underneath it. Wherefore 
men offer up to the undying gods only the bones and fat of the 
victims that are slain. 

Then in his anger Zeus sought how he might avenge him¬ 
self on the race of men, and he took away from them the gift 
of fire, so that they were vexed by cold and darkness and hun¬ 
ger, until Prometheus brought them down fire which he had 
stolen from heaven. Then was the rage of Zeus still more cruel, 
and he smote Prometheus with his thunderbolts, and at his bid¬ 
ding Hermes bare him to he crags of Caucasus, and bound him 
with iron chains to the hard rock, where the vulture gnawed his 
heart with its beak. 

But the wrath of Zeus was not appeased, and he sought 
how he might yet more vex the race of men; and he remem¬ 
bered how the Titan Prometheus had warned them to accept no 
gift from the gods, and how he left his brother Epimetheus to 
guard them against the wiles of the son of Kronos. And he 
said within himself, “ The race of men knows neither sickness 
nor pain, strife or war, theft or falsehood; for all these evil 
things are sealed up in the great cask which is guarded by 
Epimetheus. I will let loose the evils, and the whole earth shall 
be filled with woe and misery.” 

So he called Hephaistos, the lord of fire, and he said, 
“ Make ready a gift which all the undying gods shall give to the 
race of men. Take the earth, and fashion it into the shape of 
woman. Very fair let it be to look upon, but give her an evil 
nature, that the race of men may suffer for all the deeds that 
they have done to me.” Then Hephaistos took the clay and 
moulded from it the image of a fair woman, and Athene clothed 


EPIMETHEUS AND PANDORA. 


549 


her in a beautiful robe, and placed a crown upon her head, from 
which a veil fell over her snowy shoulders. And Hermes, the 
messenger of Zeus, gave her the power of words, and a greedy 
mind, to cheat and deceive the race of men. Then Hephaistos 
brought her before the assembly of the gods, and they marveled 
at the greatness of her beauty; and Zeus took her by the hand 
and gave her to Epimetheus, and said, u Ye toil hard, ye children 
of men; behold one who shall soothe and cheer you when the 
hours of toil are ended. The undying gods have taken pity on 
you, because ye have none to comfort you; and woman is their 
gift to men, therefore is her name called Pandora.” 

Then Epimetheus forgot the warning of his brother, and 
the race of men did obeisance to Zeus, and received Pandora at 
his hands, for the greatness of her beauty enslaved the hearts of 
all who looked upon her. But they rejoiced not long in the gift 
of the gods, for Pandora saw a great cask on the threshold of 
the house of Epimetheus, and she lifted the lid, and from it came 
strife and war, plague and sickness, theft and violence, grief and 
sorrow. Then in her terror she set down the lid again upon the 
cask, and Hope was shut up within it, so that she could not com¬ 
fort the race of men for the grievous evil which Pandora had 
brought upon them. 


10 AND PF[0JV[ETHEU£. 

In the halls of Inachos, King of Argos, Zeus beheld and 
loved the fair maiden Io, but when Here, the Queen, knew it, she 
was very wroth, and sought to slay her. Then Zeus changed 
the maiden into a heifer, to save her from the anger of Here, 
but presently Here learned that the heifer was the maiden whom 
she hated, and she went to Zeus, and said, “ Give me that which 
I shall desire,” and Zeus answered, “Say on.” Then Here said, 



55 ° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


u 



TIIALIA. 


Give me the beautiful heifer which I see feeding in the pastures 
of King Inachos.” So Zeus granted her prayer, for he liked 

not to confess what he had done to Io to save 
her from the wrath of Here, and Here took 
the heifer and bade Argos, with the hundred 
eyes, watch over it by night and by day. 

Long time Zeus sought how he might 
deliver the maiden from the vengeance of 
Here, but he strove in vain, for Argos never 
slept, and his hundred eyes saw everything 
around him, and none could approach with¬ 
out being seen and slain. At the last Zeus 
sent Hermes, the bright messenger of the 
gods, who stole gently towards Argos, play¬ 
ing soft music on his lute. Soothingly the 
sweet sounds fell upon his ear, and a deep 
sleep began to weigh down his eyelids, until Argos, with the 
hundred eyes, lay powerless before Hermes. Then Hermes 
drew his sharp sword, and with a single stroke he smote off his 
head, wherefore men call him the slayer of Argos, with the 
hundred eyes. But the wrath of Here was fiercer than ever 
when she learned that her watchman was slain, and she sware 
that the heifer should have no rest, but wander in terror and pain 
from land to land. So she sent a gad-fly to goad the heifer with 
its fiery sting over hill and valley, across sea and river, to tor¬ 
ment her if she lay down to rest, and madden her with pain when 
she sought to sleep. In grief and madness she fled from the 
pastures of Inachos, past the city of Erechtheus into the land of 
Kadmos, the Theban. On and on still she went, resting not by 
night or day, through the Dorian and Thessalian plains, until at 
last she came to the wild Thrakian land. Her feet bled on the 
sharp stones, her body was torn by the thorns and brambles, and 
tortured by the stings of the fearful gad-fly. Still she fled on 







IO AND PROMETHEUS. 


55 1 

and on, while the tears streamed often down her cheeks, and her 
moaning showed the greatness of her agony. “ O Zeus,” she 
said, “ dost thou not see me in my misery? Thou didst tell me 
once of thy love, and dost thou suffer me now to be driven thus 
wildly from land to land, without hope of comfort or rest? Slay 
me at once, I pray thee, or suffer me to sink into the deep sea, 
that so I may put off the sore burden of my woe.” 

But Io knew not that, while she spake, one heard her who 
had suffered even harder things from Zeus. Far above her 
head, towards the desolate crags of Caucasus, the wild, eagle 
soared shrieking in the sky, and the vulture hovered near, as 
though waiting close to some dying man till death should leave 
him for its prey. Dark snow-clouds brooded heavily on the 
mountain, the icy wind crept lazily through the frozen air, and Io 
thought that the hour of her death was come. Then, as she 
raised her head, she saw far off a giant form, which seemed 
fastened by nails to the naked rock, and a low groan reached her 
ear, as of one in mortal pain, and she heard a voice which said, 
“Whence comest thou, daughter of Inachos, into this savage 
wilderness? Hath the love of Zeus driven thee thus to the icy 
corners of the earth?” Then Io gazed at him in wonder and 
awe, and said, u How dost thou know my name and my sor¬ 
rows? and what is thine own wrong? Tell me (if it is given to 
thee to know) what awaits thee and me in the time to come, for 
sure I am that thou art no mortal man. Thy giant form is as 
the form of gods or heroes, who come down sometimes to mingle 
with the sons of men, and great must be the wrath of Zeus, that 
thou shouldst be thus tormented here.” Then he said, “Maiden, 
thou seest the Titan Prometheus, who brought down fire for the 
• children of men, and taught them how to build themselves houses 
and till the earth, and how to win for themselves food and cloth¬ 
ing. I gave them wise thoughts and good laws and prudent 
counsel, and raised them from the life of beasts to a life which 


55 2 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


was fit for speaking men. Rut the son of Kronos was afraid at 
my doings, lest, with the aid of men, I might hurl him from his 
place and set up new gods upon his throne. So he forgot all my 
good deeds in times past, how I had aided him when the earth- 
born giants sought to destroy his power and heaped rock on rock 
and eras: on eras: to smite him on his throne, and he caught me 
by craft, telling me in smooth words how that he was my friend, 
and that my honor should not fail in the halls of Olympos. So 
he took me unawares and bound me with iron chains, and bade 
Hephaistos take and fasten me to this mountain-side, where the 
frost and wind and heat scorch and torment me by day and 
night, and the vulture gnaws my heart with its merciless beak. 
But my spirit is not wholly cast down, for I know that I have 
done good to the sons of men, and that they honor the Titan 
Prometheus, who has saved them from cold and hunger and sick¬ 
ness. And well I know, also, that the reign of Zeus shall one 
day come to an end, and that another shall sit at length upon his 
throne, even as now he sits on the throne of his father, Kronos. 
Hither come, also, those who seek to comfort me, and thou seest 
before thee the daughters of Okeanos, who have but now left the 
green halls of their father to talk with me. Listen, then, to me, 
daughter of Inachos, and I will tell thee what shall befall thee in 
time to come. Hence from the ice-bound chain of Caucasus 
thou shalt roam into the Scvthian land and the regions of 
Chalybes. Thence thou shalt come to the dwelling-place of the 
Amazons, on the banks of the river Thermodon; these shall 
guide thee on thy way, until at length thou shalt come to a strait, 
which thou wilt cross, and which shall tell by its name forever 
where the heifer passed from Europe into Asia. But the end of 
thy wanderings is not yet.” 

Then Io could no longer repress her grief, and her tears 
burst forth afresh; and Prometheus said, “Daughter of Inachos, 
if thou sorrowest thus at what I have told thee, how wilt thou 


IO AND PROMETHEUS. 


553 


bear to hear what beyond these things there remains for thee to 
do?” But Io said, u Of what use is it, O Titan, to tell me of 
these woeful wanderings? Better were it now to die and be at 
rest from all this misery and sorrow.” u Nay, not so, O maiden 
of Argos,” said Prometheus, u for if thou livest, the days will 
come when Zeus shall be cast down from his throne, and the end 
of his reign shall also be the end of my sufferings. For when 
thou hast passed by the Thrakian Bosporos into the land of Asia, 
thou wilt wander on through many regions, where the Gorgons 
dwell, and the Arimaspians a-nd Ethiopians, until at last thou 
shalt come to the three-cornered land where the mighty Nile 
goes out by its many arms into the sea. There shall be thy 
resting-place, and there shall Epaphos, thy son, be born, from 
whom, in times yet far away, shall spring the great Herakles, 
who shall break my chain and set me free from my long tor¬ 
ments. And if in this thou doubtest my words, I can tell thee 
of every land through which thou hast passed on thy journey 
hither; but it is enough if I tell thee how the speaking oaks of 
Dodona hailed thee as one day to be the wife of Zeus and the 
mother of the mighty Epaphos. Hasten, then, on thy way, 
daughter of Inachos. Long years of pain and sorrow await thee 
still, but my griefs shall endure for many generations. It avails 
not now to weep, but this comfort thou hast, that thy lot is hap¬ 
pier than mine, and for both of us remains the surety that the right 
shall at last conquer, and the power of Zeus shall be brought low, 
even as the power of Kronos, whom he hurled from his ancient 
throne. Depart hence quickly, for I see Hermes, the messenger, 
drawing nigh, and perchance he comes with fresh torments for 

thee and me.” 

So Io went on her weary road, and Hermes drew nigh to 
Prometheus, and bade him once again yield himself to the will 
of the mighty Zeus. But Prometheus laughed him to scorn, and 
as Hermes turned to go away, the icy wind came shrieking 



554 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


through the air, and the dark cloud sank lower and lower down 
the hillside, until it covered the rock on which the body of the 
Titan was nailed, and the great mountain heaved with the earth¬ 
quake, and the blazing thunderbolts darted fearfully through the 
sky. Brighter and brighter flashed the lightning, and louder 
pealed the thunder in the ears of Prometheus, but he quailed not 
for all the fiery majesty of Zeus, and still, as the storm grew 
fiercer and the curls of fire were wreathed around his form, his 
voice was heard amid the din and roar, and it spake of the day 
when the good shall triumph and unjust power shall be crushed 
and destroyed forever. 


DJEUKALION. 

From his throne on the high Olympos, Zeus looked down 
on the children of men, and saw that everywhere they followed 
only their lusts, and cared nothing tor right or lor law. 
And ever, as their hearts waxed grosser in their wickedness, 
they devised for themselves new rites to appease the anger of 
the gods, till the whole earth was filled with blood. Far away 
in the hidden glens of the Arcadian hills the sons of Lykaon 
feasted and spake proud words against the majesty of Zeus, and 

Zeus himself came down from his throne to see their way and 
their doings. 

o 

rhe sun was sinking down in the sky when an old man 
diew nigh to the gate of Lykosoura. Plis gray locks streamed 
in the bieeze, and his beard fell in tangled masses over his tat¬ 
tered mantle. With staff in hand he plodded wearily on his 
way, listening to the sound of revelry which struck upon his ear. 
At last he came to the Agora, and the sons of Lykaon crowded 
round him. u So the wise seer is come,” they said; u what tale- 



DEUKALION 


555 


hast thou to tell us, old man? Canst thou sing of the days when 
the earth came forth from Chaos? Thou art old enough to have 



laocoon, the false prtest. (Sculptured 3000 years ago.) 


been there to see.” Then with rude jeering they seized him and 
placed him on the ground near the place where they were least- 
















































































































55 6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


ing. u We have done a great sacrifice to Zeus this day, and 
thy coming is timely, for thou shalt share the banquet.'” So 
they placed before him a dish, and the food that was in it was 
the flesh of man, for with the blood of men they thought to turn 
aside the anger of the gods. But the old man thrust aside the 
dish, and, as he rose up, the weariness of age passed away from 
his face, and the sons of Lykaon were scorched by the glory of 
his countenance, for Zeus stood before them and scathed them 
all with his lightnings, and their ashes cumbered the ground. 

Then Zeus returned to his home on Olympos, and he gave 
the word that a flood of waters should be let loose upon the 
earth, that the sons of men might die for their great wickedness. 
So the west wind rose in his might, and the dark rain-clouds 
veiled the whole heaven, for the winds of the north which drive 
away the mists and vapors were shut up in their prison-house. 
On the hill and valley burst the merciless rain, and the rivers, 
loosened from their courses, rushed over the wide plains and up 
the mountain-side. From his home on the highlands of Phthia, 
Deukalion looked forth on the angry sky, and, when he saw the 
waters swelling in the valleys beneath, he called Pyrrha, his 
wife, the daughter of Epimetheus, and said to her, “ The time 
is come of which my father, the wise Prometheus, forewarned 
me. Make ready, therefore, the ark which I have built, and 
place in it all that we may need for food while the flood of 
waters is out upon the earth. Far away on the crags of Cau¬ 
casus the iron nails rend the flesh of Prometheus, and the vul¬ 
ture gnaws his heart, but the words which he spake are being 
fulfilled, that for the wickedness of men the flood of waters 
would come upon the earth, for Zeus himself is but the servant 
of one that is mightier than he, and must do his bidding.” 

Then Pyrrha hastened to make all things ready, and they 
waited until the waters rose up to the highlands of Phthia and 
. floated away the ark of Deukalion. The fishes swam amidst 


DEUKALION. 


557 


the old elm groves, and twined amongst the gnarled boughs of 
the oaks, while on the face of the waters were tossed the bodies 
of men, and Deukalion looked on the dead faces of stalwart 
warriors, of maidens, and of babes, as they rose and fell upon 
the heaving waves. Eight days the ark was borne on the 
flood, while the waters covered the hills, and all the children of 
men died save a few who found a place of shelter on the summit 
of the mountains. On the ninth day the ark rested on the 
heights of Parnassos, and Deukalion, with his wife Pyrrha, 
stepped forth upon the desolate earth. Plour by hour the waters 
fled down the valleys, and dead Ashes and sea-monsters lay 
caught in the tangled branches of the forest. But, far as the 
eye could reach, there was no sign of living thing, save of the 
vultures who wheeled in circles through the heaven to swoop 
upon their prey, and Deukalion looked on Pyrrha, and their 
hearts were filled with a grief which can not be told. “We 
know not,” he said, “ whether there live any one of all the sons 
of men, or in what hour the sleep of death may fall upon us. 
But the mighty being who sent the flood has saved us from its 
waters; to him let us build an altar and bring our thankoflering.” 
So the altar was built and Zeus had respect to the prayer of 
Deukalion, and presently Hermes, the messenger, stood before 
him. “ Ask what thou wilt,” he said, “and it shall be granted 
thee, for in thee alone of all the sons of men hath Zeus found a 
clean hand and a pure heart.” Then Deukalion bowed himself 
before Hermes, and said, “ The whole earth lies desolate; I pray 
thee, let men be seen upon it once more.” “ Even so shall it 
come to pass,” said Hermes, “ if ye will cover your faces with 
your mantles and cast the bones of your mother behind you as 
ye go upon your way.” 

So Hermes departed to the home of Zeus, and Deukalion 
pondered his words, till the wisdom of his father, Prometheus, 
showed him that his mother was the earth, and that they were to 


553 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


cast the stones behind them as they went down from Parnassos. 
Then they did each as they were bidden, and the stones which 
Deukalion threw were turned into men, but those which were 
thrown by Pyrrha became women, and the people which knew 
neither father nor mother went forth to their toil throughout the 
wide earth. The sun shone brightly in the heaven and dried up 
the slime beneath them; yet was their toil but a weary labor, 
and so hath it been until this day—a struggle hard as the stones 
from which they have been taken. 

But as the years passed on, there were children born to 
Pyrrha and Deukalion, and the old race of men still lived on the 
heights of Phthia. From Helen their son, sprang the mighty 
tribes of the Hellenes, and from Protogeneia, their daughter, was 
.born Aethlios, the man of toil and suffering, the father of Endy- 
mion, the fair, who sleeps on the hill of Latmos. 


POgEIDOJN AJND y\THE]NE. 

Near the banks of the stream Kephisos, Erechtheus had 
built a city in a rocky and thin-soiled land. He was the father 
of a free and brave people, and though his city was small and 
humble, yet Zeus, by his wisdom, foresaw that one day it would 
become the noblest of all cities throughout the wide earth. And 
there was a strife between Poseidon, the lord of the sea, and 
Athene, the virgin child of Zeus, to see by whose name the city 
of Erechtheus should be called. So Zeus appointed a day in 
which he would judge between them in presence of the great 
gods who dwell on high Olympos. 

When the day was come, the gods sat each on his golden 
throne, on the banks of the stream Kephisos. High above all 
was the throne of Zeus, the great father of gods and men, and 




POSEIDON AND ATHENE. 


559 


by his side sat Here, the Queen. This clay even the sons of 
men might gaze upon them, for Zeus had laid aside his lightnings, 
and all the gods had come down in peace to listen to his judg¬ 
ment between Poseidon and Athene. There sat Phoebus Apollo 
with his golden harp in his hand. Plis face glistened for the 
brightness of his beauty, but there was no anger in his gleaming 
eye, and idle by his side lay the unerring spear, with which he 
smites all who deal falsely and speak lies. There, beside him, 
sat Artemis, his sister, whose days were spent in chasing the 
beasts of the earth and in sporting with the nymphs on the reedy 
banks of Eurotas. There, by the side of Zeus, sat Hermes, ever 
bright and youthful, the spokesman of the gods, with staff in 
hand, to do the will of the great father. There sat Hephaistos, 
the lord of fire, and Hestia, who guards the hearth. There, too, 
was Ares, who delights in war, and Dionysos, who loves the 
banquet and the wine-cup, and Aphrodite, who ros-e from the sea- 
foam, to fill the earth with laughter and woe. 

Before them all stood the great rivals, awaiting the judg¬ 
ment of Zeus. High in her left hand, Athene held the invinci¬ 
ble spear, and on her aegis, hidden from mortal sight, was the 
face on which no man may gaze and live. Close beside her, 
proud in the greatness of his power, Poseidon waited the issue 
of the contest. In his right hand gleamed the trident, with 
which he shakes the earth and cleaves the waters of the sea. 

Then, from his golden seat, rose the spokesman, Hermes, 
and his clear voice sounded over all the great council. “ Listen, 11 
he said, “ to the will of Zeus, who judges now between Poseidon 
and Athene. The city of Erechtheus shall bear the name of 
that o-od who shall bring forth out of the earth the best gift for 

O CD 

the sons of men. If Poseidon do this, the city shall be called 
Poseidonia, but if Athene brings the higher gift it shall be called 

Athens. 1 ’ 

Then King Poseidon rose up in the greatness of his majesty. 


5 6 ° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


and with his trident he smote the earth where he stood. Straight¬ 
way the hill was shaken to its depths, and the earth clave 
asunder, and forth from the chasm leaped a horse, such as never 
shall be seen again for strength and beauty. His body shone 
white all over as the driven snow, his mane streamed proudly in 
the wind as he stamped on the ground and scoured in very 
wantonness over hill and valley. “Behold my gift,” said Posei¬ 
don, “ and call the city after my name. Who shall give aught 
better than the horse to the sons of men?” 

4 

But Athene looked steadfastly at the gods with her keen gray 
eye, and she stooped slowly down to the ground, and planted in 
it a little seed, which she held in her right hand. She spoke no 
word, but still gazed calmly on that great council. Presently 
they saw springing from the earth a little germ, which grew up 
and threw out its boughs and leaves. Higher and higher it rose, 
with all its thick green foliage, and put forth fruit on its cluster¬ 
ing branches. u My gift is better, O Zeus,” she said, u than that 
of King Poseidon. The horse which he has given shall bring 
war and strife and anguish to the children of men; my olive-tree 
is the sign of peace and plenty, of health and strength, and the 
pledge of happiness and freedom. Shall not, then, the city of 
Erechtheus be called after my name?” 

Then with one accord rose the voices of the gods in the air, 
as they cried out, u The gift of Athene is the best which may be 
given to the sons of men; it is the token that the city of Erech¬ 
theus shall be greater in peace than in war, and nobler in its 
freedom than its power. Let the city be called Athens.” 

Then Zeus, the mighty son of Kronos, Lowed his head in 
sign of judgment that the city should be called by the name of 
Athene. From his head the immortal locks streamed down, and 
the earth trembled beneath his feet as he rose from his golden 
throne to return to the halls of Olympos. But still Athene stood 
gazing over the land which was now her own; and she stretched 


POSEIDON AND ATHENE. 


5 61 


out her spear towards the city of Erechtheus, and said: “ I have 
won the victory, and here shall be my home. Here shall my 
children grow up in happiness and freedom, and hither shall the 
sons of men come to learn of law and order. Here shall they 
see what great things may be done by mortal hands when aided 
by the gods who dwell on Olympos, and when the torch of free¬ 
dom has gone out at Athens, its light shall be handed on to other 
lands, and men shall learn that my gift is still the best, and they 
shall say that reverence for Law and freedom of thought and 
deed has come to them from the city of Erechtheus, which bears 
the name of Athene.” 


MEDUSA.. 

In the far western land, where the Hesperides guard the 
golden apples which Gaia gave to the lady Here, dwelt the 
maiden Medusa, with her sisters Stheino and Euryale, in their 
lonely and dismal home. Between them and the land of living 
men flowed the gentle stream of ocean, so that only the name of 
the Gorgon sisters was known to the sons of men, and the heart 
of Medusa yearned in vain to see some face which might look 
on her with love and pity, for on her lay the doom of death, but 
her sisters could neither grow old nor die. For them there was 
nothing fearful in the stillness of their gloomy home, as they sat 
with stern, unpitying faces, gazing on the silent land beyond the 
ocean stream. But Medusa wandered to and fro, longing to see 
something new in a home to which no change ever came, and 
her heart pined for lack of those things which gladden the souls 
of mortal men. For where she dwelt there was neither day nor 
night. She never saw the bright children of Helios driving his 
flocks to their pastures in the morning. She never beheld the 
stars as they look out from the sky, when the sun sinks down 



562 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


into his golden cup in the evening. There no clouds ever passed 
across the heaven, no breeze ever whispered in the air, but a 
pale yellow light brooded on the land everlastingly. So there 
rested on the face of Medusa a sadness such as the children of 
men may never feel; and the look of hopeless pain was the 
more terrible because of the greatness of her beauty. She spake 
not to any of her awful grief, for her sisters knew not of any 
such thing as gentleness and love, and there was no comfort for 
her from the fearful Graiai who were her kinsfolk. Sometimes 
she sought them out in their dark caves, for it was something to 
see even the faint glimmmer of the light of day which reached the 
dwelling of the Graiai, but they spake not to her a word of hope 
when she told them of her misery, and she wandered back to the 
land which the light of Helios might never enter. Her brow 
was knit with pain, but no tear wetted her cheek, for her grief 
was too great for weeping. 

But harder things yet were in store for Medusa, for Athene,, 
the daughter of Zeus, came from the Libyan land to the dwell¬ 
ing of the Gorgon sisters, and she charged Medusa to go with 
her to the gardens where the children of Hesperos guard the 
golden apples of the lady Here. Then Medusa bowed herself 
down at the feet of Athene, and besought her to have pity on 
her changeless sorrow, and she said, “ Child of Zeus, thou 
dwellest with thy happy kinsfolk, where Helios gladdens all with 
his light and the Horai lead the glad dance when Phoebus 
touches the strings of his golden harp. Here there is neither 
night nor day, nor cloud or breeze or storm. Let me go forth 
from this horrible land and look on the face of mortal men, for I, 
too, must die, and my heart yearns for the love which my sisters 
scorn.” Then Athene looked on her sternly, and said, “ What 
hast thou to do with love? and what is the love of men for one 
who is of kin to the beings who may not die? Tarry here trll 
thy doom is accomplished, and then it may be that Zeus will 


MEDUSA. 


S 6 3 


giant thee a place among those who dwell in his glorious home.” 
But Medusa said, u Lady, let me go forth now. I can not tell 
how many ages may pass before I die, and thou knowest not the 
yearning which fills the heart of mortal things for tenderness and 
love.” Then a look of anger came over the fair face of Athene, 
and she said, u I rouble me not. Thy prayer is vain, and the 
sons of men would shrink from thee, if thou couldst o- 0 amone* 

' cD o 



Grecian altar. (3000 years old.) 


them, for hardly could they look on the woeful sorrow of thy 
countenance.” But Medusa answered, gently, u Lady, hope 
has a wondrous power to kill the deepest grief, and in the pure 
light of Helios my face may be as fair as thine.” 

Then the anger of Athene became fiercer still, and she said, 
“Dost thou dare to vie with me? 1 stand by the side of Zeus, 
















































































5 6 4 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


to do his will, and the splendor of his glory rests upon me, and 
what art thou, that thou shouldst speak to me such words as 
these? Therefore, hear thy doom. Henceforth, if mortal man 
ever look upon thee, one glance of thy face shall turn him to 
stone. Thy beauty shall still remain, but it shall be to thee the 
blackness of death. The hair which streams in golden tresses 
over thy fair shoulders shall be changed into hissing snakes, 
which shall curl and cluster round thy neck. On thy counte¬ 
nance shall be seen only fear and dread, that so all mortal things 
which look on thee may die.” So Athene departed from her, 
and the blackness of the great horror rested on the face of 
Medusa, and the hiss of the snakes was heard as they twined 
around her head and their coils were wreathed about her neck. 
Yet the will of Athene was not wholly accomplished, for the heart 
of Medusa was not changed by the doom which gave to her face 
its deadly power, and she said, u Daughter of Zeus, there is hope 
yet, for thou hast left me mortal still, and, one day, I shall die.” 


DANAE. 

From the home of Phoebus Apollo, at Delphi, came words 
of warning to Akrisios, the King of Argos, when he sent to ask 
what should befall him in the after days, and the warning was 
that he should be slain by the son of his daughter, Danae. So 
the love of Akrisios was changed towards his child, who was 
growing up fair as the flowers of spring, in her father’s house, 
and he shut her up in a dungeon, caring nothing for her wretched¬ 
ness. But the power of Zeus was greater than the power of 
Akrisios, and Danae became the mother of Perseus, and they 
called her child the Son of the Bright Morning, because Zeus 
had scattered the darkness of her prison-house. Then Akrisios 
feared exceedingly, and he spake the word that Danae and her 
child should die. 



DANAE. 


565 


The first streak of day was spreading its faint light in the 
eastern sky when they led Danae to the sea-shore, and put her in 
a chest, with a loaf of bread and a flask of water. Her child 
slept in her arms, and the rocking of the waves, as they bore 
the chest over the heaving sea, made him slumber yet more 
sweetly, and the tears of Danae fell on him as she thought of the 
days that were past and the death which she must die in the 
dark waters. And she prayed to Zeus, and said, u O Zeus, who 
hast given me my child, canst thou hear me still and save me 
from this terrible doom?” Then a deep sleep came over Danae, 
and, as she slept with the babe in her arms, the winds carried 
the chest at the bidding of Poseidon, and cast it forth on the 
shore of the island of Seriphos. 

Now it so chanced that Diktys, the brother of Polydektes, 
the King of the Island, was casting a net 
into the sea, when he saw something thrown 
up by the waves on the dry land, and he 
went hastily and took Danae with her 
child out of the chest, and said, u Fear 
not, lady, no harm shall happen to thee 
here, and they who have dealt hardly with 
thee shall not come nigh to hurt thee in 
this land.” So he led her to the house of 
King Polydektes, who welcomed her to 
his home, and Danae had rest after all her 
troubles. 

Thus the time went on, and the child 
Perseus grew up brave and strong, and all 
who saw him marveled at his beauty. I he 
light of early morning is not more pure 
than was the color on his fair cheeks, and 
the golden locks streamed brightly over his shoulders, like the 
rays of the sun when they rest on the hills at midday. And 



themis (Goddess of Laic). 




































5 66 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


Danae said, “ My child, in the land where thou wast born, they 
called thee the Son of the Bright Morning. Keep thy faith, and 
deal justly with all men; so shalt thou deserve the name which 
they gave thee.” Thus Perseus grew up, hating all things that 
were mean and wrong, and all who looked on him knew that his 
hands were clean and his heart pure. 

But there were evil days in store for Danae—for King Poly- 
dektes sought to win her love against her will. Long time he 
besought her to hearken to his prayer, but her heart was far 
away in the land of Argos, where her child was born, and she 
said, u O King, my life is sad and weary; what is there in me 
that thou shouldst seek my love? There are maidens in thy 
kingdom fairer far than I; leave me, then, to take care of my 
child while we dwell in a strange land.” Then Polydektes said, 
hastily, u Think not, lady, to escape me thus. If thou wilt not 
hearken to my words, thy child shall not remain with thee, but I 
will send him forth far away into the western land, that he may 
bring me the head of the Gorgon Medusa. 

So Danae sat weeping when Polydektes had left her, and 
when Perseus came he asked her why she mourned and wept, 
and he said, u Tell me, my mother, if the people of this land 
have done thee wrong, and I will take a sword in my hand and 
smite them . 11 Then Danae answered, u Many toils await thee 
in time to come, but here thou canst do nothing. Only be of 
good courage, and deal truly, and one day thou shalt be able to 
save me from my enemies.” 

Still, as the months went on, Polydektes sought to gain the 
love of Danae, until at last he began to hate her because she 
would not listen to his prayer. And he spake the word, that 
Perseus must go forth to slay Medusa, and that Danae must be 
shut up in a dungeon until the boy should return from the land 
of the Graiai and the Gorgons. 

So once more Danae lay within a prison, and the boy Per- 



DANAE. 


567 


seus came to bid her farewell before he set out on his weary 
journey. Then Danae folded her arms around him, and looked 
sadly into his eyes, and said, u My child, whatever a mortal 
man can do for his mother, that, I know, thou wilt do for me, 
but I can not tell whither thy long toils shall lead thee, save that 
the land of the Gorgons lies beyond the slow-rolling stream of 
Ocean. Nor can I tell how thou canst do the bidding of Poly- 
dektes, for Medusa alone of the Gorgon sisters may grow old 
and die, and the deadly snakes will slay those who come near, 
and one glance of her woeful eye can turn all mortal things to 
stone. Once, they say, she was fair to look upon, but the lady 
Athene has laid on her a dark doom, so that all who see the 
Gorgon’s face must die. It may be, Perseus, that the heart of 
Medusa is full rather of grief than hatred, and that not of her 
own will the woeful glare of her eye changes all mortal things 
into stone, and, if so it be, then the deed which thou art charged 
to do shall set her free from a hateful life, and bring to her some 
of those good things for which now she yearns in vain. Go, then, 
my child, and prosper. Thou hast a great warfare before thee, 
and though I know not how thou canst win the victory, yet I 
know that true and fair dealing gives a wondrous might to the 
children of men, and Zeus will strengthen the arm of those who 
hate treachery and lies.” 

Then Perseus bade his mother take courage, and vowed a 
vow that he would not trust in craft and falsehood, and he said, 
“ I know not, my mother, the dangers and the foes which await 
me, but be sure that I will not meet them with any weapons 
which thou wouldst scorn. Only, as the days and months roll 
on, think not that evil has t^efallen me, for there is hope within 
me that I shall be able to do the bidding of Polydektes and to 
bear thee hence to our Argive land.” So Perseus went forth 
with a good courage to seek out the Gorgon Medusa. 


5 68 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


PEF(£EU£. 


The east wind crested with a silvery foam the waves of the 
sea of Ilelle, when Perseus went into the ship which was to bear 
him away from Seriphos. The white sail was spread to the 
breeze, and the ship sped gaily over the heaving waters. Soon 
the blue hills rose before them, and as the sun sank down in the 
west, Perseus trod once more the Argive land. 

But there was no rest for him now in his ancient home. On 
and on, through Argos and other lands, he must wander in search 
of the Gorgon, with nothing but his strong heart and his stout 
arm to help him. Yet for himself he feared not, and if his eyes 
filled with tears, it was only because he thought of his mother, 
Danae; and he said within himself, u O, my mother, I would 
that thou wert here. I see the towers of the fair city where 
Akrisios still is King, I see the home which thou longest to be¬ 
hold, and which now I may not enter, but one day I shall bring 
thee hither in triumph, when I come to win back my birthright.” 

Brightly before his mind rose the vision of the time to come, 
as he lay down to rest beneath the blue sky, but when his eyes 
were closed in sleep, there stood before him a vision yet more 
glorious, for the lady Athene was come from the home of Zeus, 
to aid the young hero as he set forth on his weary labor. Her 
face gleamed with a beauty such as is not given to the daughters 
of men. But Perseus feared not because of her majesty, for the 
soft spell of sleep lay on him, and he heard her words as she 
said, u I am come down from Olympos, where dwells my father, 
Zeus, to help thee in thy mighty toil. Thou art brave of heart 
and strong of hand, but thou knowest not the way which thou 
shouldst go, and thou hast no weapons with which to slay the 
Gorgon Medusa. Many things thou needest, but only against 
the freezing stare of the Grogon’s face can I guard thee now. 


PERSEUS. 569 

On her countenance thou canst not look and live, and even when 
she is dead, one glance of that fearful face will still turn all mor¬ 
tal things to stone. So, when thou drawest nigh to slay her, 
thine eye must not rest upon her. Take good heed, then, to 
thyself, for while they are awake the Gorgon sisters dread no 
danger, for the snakes which curl around their heads warn them 
of ever)' peril. Only while they sleep canst thou approach them, 
and the face of Medusa, in life or in death, thou must never see. 
Take, then, this mirror, into which thou canst look, and when 
thou beholdest her image there, then nerve thy heart and take 
thine aim, and carry away with thee the head of the mortal 
maiden. Linger not in thy flight, for her sisters will pursue after 
thee, and they can neither grow old nor die .’ 1 

So Athene departed from him, and early in the morning he 
saw by his side the mirror which she had given to him, and he 
said, u Now I know that my toil is not in vain, and the help of 
Athene is a pledge of yet more aid in time to come.” So he 
journeyed on with a good heart over hill and dale, across rivers 
and forests, towards the setting of the sun. Manfully he toiled 
on, till sleep weighed heavy on his eyes, and he lay down to rest 
on a broad stone in the evening. Once more before him stood 
a glorious form. A burnished helmet glistened on his head, a 
golden staff was in his hand, and on his feet were the golden san¬ 
dals, which bore him through the air with a flight more swift 
than the eagde’s. And Perseus heard a voice which said, u I am • 
Hermes, the messenger of Zeus, and I come to arm thee against 
thine enemies. Take this sword, which slays all mortal things 
on which it may fall, and go on thy way with a cheerful heart. 
A weary road yet lies before thee, and for many a long day 
must thou wander on before thou canst have other help in thy 
mio-hty toil. Far away, towards the setting of the sun, lies the 
Tartessian land, whence thou shalt see the white-crested moun¬ 
tains where Atlas holds up the pillars of the heaven. There 


570 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 

must thou cross the dark waters, and then thou wilt find thyself 
in the land of the Graiai, who are of kin to the Gorgon sisters, 
and thou wilt see no more the glory of Helios, who gladdens the 
homes of living men. Only a faint light from the far-off sun 
comes dimly to the desolate land where, hidden in the gloomy 
cave, lurk the hapless Graiai. These thou must seek out, and 
when thou hast found them, fear them not. Over their worn 
and wrinkled faces stream tangled masses of long gray hair, 
their voice comes hollow from their toothless gums, and a single 
eye is passed from one to the other when they wish to look forth 
from their dismal dwelling. Seek them out, for these alone can 
tell thee what more remaineth yet for thee to do . 11 

When Perseus woke in the morning, the sword of Hermes 
lay beside him, and he rose up with great joy, and said, u The 
help of Zeus fails me not; if more is needed will he not grant it 
to me? So onward he went to the Tartessian land, and thence 
across the dark sea towards the country of the Graiai, till he saw 
the pillars of Atlas rise afar off into the sky. Then, as he drew 
nigh to the hills which lay beneath them, he came to a dark 
cave, and as he stooped to look into it, he fancied that he saw 
the gray hair which streamed over the shoulders of the Graiai. 
Long time he rested on the rocks without the cave, till he knew 
by their heavy breathing that the sisters were asleep. Then he 
crept in stealthily, and took the eye which lay beside them, and 
waited till they should wake. At last, as the faint light from the 
far-off sun, who shines on mortal men, reached the cave, he saw 
them groping for the eye which he had taken, and presently, 
from their toothless jaws, came a hollow voice, which said, 
“ There is some one near us who is sprung from the children of 
men, for of old time we have known that one should come and 
leave us blind until we did his bidding.’’ Then Perseus came 
forth boldly and stood before them, and said, u Daughters of 
Phorkos and of Keto, I know that ye are of kin to the Gorgon 






PERSEUS. 


57 1 


sisters, and to these ye must now guide me. Think not to 
escape my craft or guile, for in my hands is the sword of 
Hermes, and it slays all living things on which it may fall.” And 
they answered, quickly, “ Slay us not, child of man, for we will 
deal truly by thee, and will tell thee of the things which must be 
done before thou canst reach the dwelling of the Gorgon sisters. 
Go hence along the plain which stretches before thee, then over 
hill and vale, and forest and desert, till thou comest to the slow- 
rolling Ocean stream; there call on the nymphs who dwell be¬ 
neath the waters, and they shall rise at thy bidding and tell thee 
many things which it is not given to us to know.” 

Onwards again he went, across the plain, and over hill and 
vale till he came to the Ocean which flows lazily round the 
world of living men. No ray of the pure sunshine pierced the 
murky air, but the pale yellow light, which broods on the land 
of the Gorgons, showed to him the dark stream, as he stood on 
the banks and summoned the nymphs to do his bidding. Pres¬ 
ently they stood before him, and greeted him by his name, and 
they said, u O Perseus, thou art the first of living men whose 
feet have trodden this desolate shore. Long time have we 
known that the will of Zeus would bring thee hither to accom- 
plish the doom of the mortal Medusa. We know the things of 
which thou art in need, and without us thy toil would in very 
truth be vain. Thou hast to come near to beings who can see 
all around them, for the snakes which twist about their heads 
are their eyes, and here is the helmet of blades, which will 
enable thee to draw nigh to them unseen. Thou hast the sword 
which never falls in vain; but without this bag which we give 
thee, thou canst not bear away the head, the sight of which 
changes all mortal things to stone. And when thy work of 
death is done on the mortal maiden, thou must fly from her sis¬ 
ters who can not die, and who will follow thee more swiftly than 
eagles, and here are the sandals which shall waft thee through 


57 2 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


the air more quickly than a dream. Hasten, then, child of 
Danae, for we are ready to bear thee in our hands across the 
Ocean stream.” 

So they bare Perseus to the Gorgon land, and he journeyed 
on in the pale yellow light which rests upon it everlastingly. 

On that night, in the darkness of their lonesome dwelling, 
Medusa spake to her sisters of the doom which should one day 
be accomplished, and she said, u Sisters, ye care little for the 
grief whose image on my face turns all mortal things to stone. 
Ye who know not old age or death, know not the awful 
weight of my agony, and can not feel the signs of the change 
that is coming. But I know them. The snakes which twine 
around my head warn me not in vain; but they warn me against 
perils which I care not now to shun. The wrath of Athene, 
who crushed the faint hopes which lingered in my heart, left me 
mortal still, and I am weary with the woe of the ages that are 
past. O sisters, ye know not what it is to pity, but something 
more, ye know what it is to love, for even in this living tomb 
we have dwelt together in peace, and peace is of kin to love. 
But hearken to me now. Mine eyes are heavy with sleep, and 
my heart tells me that the doom is coming, for I am but a 
mortal maiden, and I care not if the slumber which is stealing 
on me be the sleep of those whose life is done. Sisters, my lot 
is happier at the least than yours, for he who slays me is my 
friend. I am weary of my woe, and it may be that better things 
await me when I am dead.” 

But even as Medusa spake, the faces of Stheino and Eury- 
ale remained unchanged, and it seemed as though for them the 
words of Medusa were but an empty sound. Presently the Gor¬ 
gon sisters were all asleep. The deadly snakes lay still and 
quiet, and only the breath which hissed from their mouths was 
heard throughout the cave. 

Then Perseus drew nigh, with the helmet of Hades on his 


PERSEUS. 


573 


head, and the sandals of the nymphs on his feet. In his right 
hand was the sword of Hermes, and in his left the mirror of 
Athene. Long time he gazed on the image of Medusa’s face, 
which still showed the wreck of her ancient beauty, and he said 
within himself, u Mortal maiden, well may it be that more than 
mortal woe should give to thy countenance its deadly power. 
The hour of thy doom is come, but death to thee must be a 
boon.” Then the sword of Hermes fell, and the great agony of 
Medusa was ended. So Perseus cast a veil over the dead face, 
and bare it away from the cave in the bag which the nymphs 
gave him on the banks of the slow-rolling Ocean. 


ANDROMEDA. 

Terrible was the rage of the Gorgon sisters when they woke 
up from their sleep and saw that the doom of Medusa had been 
accomplished. The snakes hissed as they rose in knotted clus¬ 
ters round their heads, and the Gorgons gnashed their teeth in 
fury, not for any love of the mortal maiden whose woes were 
ended, but because a child of weak and toiling men had dared 
to approach the daughters of Phorkos and Keto. Swifter than 
the eagles they sped from their gloomy cave, but they sought in 
vain to find Perseus, for the helmet of I lades was on his head, and 
the sandals of the nymphs were bearing him through the air like 
a dream. Onwards he went, not knowing whither he was borne, 
for he saw but dimly through the pale yellow light which brooded 
on the Gorgon land everlastingly; but presently he heard a groan 
as from one in mortal pain, and before him he beheld a giant 
form, on whose head rested the pillars of the heaven, and he 
heard a voice, which said, “ Hast thou slain the Gorgon Medusa, 
child of man, and art thou come to rid me of my long woe? 



574 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


Look on me, for I am Atlas, who rose up with the Titans 
against the power of Zeus, when Prometheus fought on his side; 
and of old time have I known that for me is no hope of rest till 
a mortal man should bring hither the Gorgon head which can 
turn all living things to stone. For so was it shown to me from 
Zeus, when he made me bow down beneath the weight of the 
brazen heaven. Yet, if thou hast slain Medusa, Zeus hath been 
more merciful to me than to Prometheus who was his friend, for 
he lies nailed on the rugged crags of Caucasus, and only thy 
child in the third generation shall scare away the vulture which 
gnaws his heart, and set the Titan free. But hasten now, Per¬ 
seus, and let me look on the Gorgon's face, for the agony of my 
labor is well nigh greater than I can bear . 11 So Perseus heark¬ 
ened to the words of Atlas, and he unveiled before him the dead 
face of Medusa. Eagerly he gazed for a moment on the change¬ 
less countenance, as though beneath the blackness of great horror 
he could yet see the wreck of her ancient beauty and pitied her 
for her hopeless woe. But in an instant the straining eyes were 
closed, the heaving breast was still, the limbs which trembled 
with the weight of heaven were still and cold, and it seemed to 
Perseus, as he rose again into the pale yellow air, that the gray 
hairs which streamed from the giant's head were like the snow 
which rests on the peaks of the great mountain, and that in place 
of the trembling limbs he saw only the rents and clefts on a 
rough hill-side. 

Onward yet and higher he sped, he knew not whither, on 
the golden sandals, till from the murky glare of the Gorgon land 
he passed into a soft and tender light, in which all things wore 
the colors of a dream. It was not the light of sun or moon, 
for in that land was neither day nor night. No breeze wafted 
the light clouds of morning through the sky, or stirred the leaves 
of the forest trees where the golden fruits glistened the whole 
year round, but from beneath rose the echoes of sweet music, as 


ANDROMEDA. 


575 


he glided gently down to the earth. Then he took the helmet 
of Hades from off his head, and asked the people whom he met 
the name of this happy land, and they said, “We dwell where 
the icy breath of Boreas can not chill the air or wither our fruits, 
therefore is our land called the garden of the Hyperboreans.” 
There, for a while, Perseus rested from his toil, and all day 
long he saw the dances of happy maidens fair as Hebe and 
Ilarmonia, and he shared the rich banquets at which the people 
of the land feasted with wreaths of laurel twined around their 
head. There he rested in a deep peace, for no sound of strife or 
war can ever break it, and they know nothing of malice and 
hatred, of sickness or old age. 

But presently Perseus remembered his mother, Danae, as 
she lay in her prison-house, at Seriphos, and he left the garden of 
the Hyperboreans to return to the world of toiling men, but the 
people of the land knew only that it lay beyond the slow-rolling 
Ocean stream, and Perseus saw not whither he went as he rose 
on his golden sandals into the soft and dreamy air. Onwards he 
flew, until far beneath he beheld the Ocean river, and once more 
he saw the light of Plelios, as he drove his fiery chariot through 
the heaven. Far away stretched the mighty Libyan plain, and 
further yet, beyond the hills which shut it in, he saw the waters 
of the dark sea, and the white line of foam, where the breakers 
were dashed upon the shore. As he came nearer, he saw the 
huge rocks which rose out of the heaving waters, and on one 
of them he beheld a maiden, whose limbs were fastened with 
chains to a stone. The folds of her white robe fluttered in the 
breeze, and her fair face was worn and wasted with the heat by 
day and the cold by night. Then Perseus hastened to her, and 
stood a long time before her, but she saw him not, for the helmet 
of Hades was on his head, and he watched her there till the 
tears started to his eyes for pity. Her hands were clasped upon 
her breast, and only the moving of her lips showed the greatness 





57 6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


of her misery. Higher and higher rose the foaming waters, till 
at last the maiden said, u O Zeus, is there none whom thou 
canst send to help me?” Then Perseus took the helmet in his 
hand, and stood before her in all his glorious beauty, and the 
maiden knew that she had nothing to fear when he said, “ Lady, 
I see that thou art in great sorrow ; tell me who it is that has 
wronged thee, and I will avenge thee mightily.” And she 
answered, “ Stranger, whoever thou art, I will trust thee, for thy 
face tells me that thou art not one of those who deal falsely. 
My name is Andromeda, and my father, Kepheus, is King of the 
rich Libyan land, but there is strife between him and the old 
man, Nereus, who dwells with his daughters in the coral caves, 
beneath the sea, for, as I grew up in my father’s house, my 
mother made a vain boast of my beauty, and said that among 
all the children of Nereus there was none so fair as I. So 
Nereus rose from his coral caves, and went to the King Poseidon, 
and said, “ King of the broad sea, Kassiopeia, hath done a 
grievous wrong to me and to my children. I pray thee let not 
her people escape for her evil words.” 

Then Poseidon let loose the waters of the sea, and they 
rushed in over the Libyan plains till only the hills which shut it 
in remained above them, and a mighty monster came forth and 
devoured all the fruits of the land. In grief and terror the peo¬ 
ple fell down before my father, Kepheus, and he sent to the home 
of Ammon to ask what he should do for the plague of waters 
and for the savage beast who vexed them; and soon the answer 
came that he must chain up his daughter on a rock, till the beast 
came and took her for his prey. So they fastened me here to 
this desolate crag, and each day the monster comes nearer as 
the waters rise; and soon, I think, they will place me within his 
reach.” Then Perseus cheered her with kindly words, and said, 
“ Maiden, I am Perseus, to whom Zeus has given the power to 
do great things. I hold in my hand the sword of Hermes, 







ANDROMEDA. 


577 


which has slain the Gorgon Medusa, and I am bearing to Poly- 
dektes, who lules in Seriphos, the head which turns all who look 
on it into stone. Fear not, then, Andromeda. I will do battle 
with the monster, and, when thy foes are vanquished, I will sue 
for the boon of thy love. A soft blush as of great gladness 
came ovei the pale cheek of Andromeda, as she answered, u O 
Perseus, why should I hide from thee my joy? Thou hast come 
to me like the light of the morning when it breaks on a woeful 
night.” But, even as she spake, the rage 
of the waves waxed greater, and the 
waters rose higher and higher, lashing the 
rocks in their fury, and the hollow roar 
of the monster was heard as he hastened 
to seize his prey. Presently by the maid¬ 
en’s side he saw a glorious form with the 
flashing sword in his hand, and he lashed 
the waters in fiercer answer. Then Per- 
seus went forth to meet him, and he held 
aloft the sword which Hermes grave to 
him, and said, “ Sword of Phoebus, let 
thy stroke be sure, for thou smitest the 
enemy of the helpless.” So the sword EUTERPE (Museof Pleasure). 

fell, and the blood of the mighty beast reddened the waters of 
the green sea. 

In gladness of heart Perseus led the maiden to the halls of 
Kepheus, and said, “ O King, I have slain the monster to whom 
thou didst give thy child for a prey; let her go with me now to 
other lands, if she gainsay me not.” But Kepheus answered, 
“ Tarry with us yet a while, and the marriage feast shall be 
made ready, if indeed thou must hasten away from the Libyan 
land.” So, at the banquet, by the side of Perseus sate the 
beautiful Andromeda; but there arose a fierce strife, for Phineus 
had come to the feast, and it angered him that another should 

37 

















57 8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


have for his wife the maiden whom he had sought to make his 
bride. Deeper and fiercer grew his rage, as he looked on the 
face of Perseus, till at last he spake evil words of the stranger 
who had taken away the prize which should have been his own. 
But Perseus said, calmly, “ Why, then, didst thou not slay the 
monster thyself and set the maiden free?” When Phineus heard 
these words his rage almost choked him, and he charged his 
people to draw their swords and slay Perseus. Wildly rose the 
din in the banquet hall, but Perseus unveiled the Gorgon’s face, 
and Phineus and all his people were frozen into stone. 

Then, in the still silence, Perseus bare away Andromeda 
from her father’s home, and when they had wandered through 
many lands they came at length to Seriphos. Once more Danae 
looked on the face of her son, and said, “ My child, the months 
have rolled wearily since I bade thee farewell; but sure I am 
that my prayer has been heard, for thy face is as the face of one 
who comes back a conqueror from battle.” Then Perseus said, 
11 Yes, my mother, the help of Zeus has never failed me. When 
the eastern breeze carried me hence to the Argive land, my 
heart was full of sorrow, because I saw the city which thou 
didst yearn to see, and the home which thou couldst not enter, 
and I vowed a vow to bring thee back in triumph when I came 
to claim my birthri ght. 

That evening, as I slept, the lady Athene came to me from 
the home of Zeus, and gave me a mirror so that I might take 
the Gorgon’s head without looking on the face which turns 
everything into stone, and yet another night, Hermes stood before 
me, and gave me the sword whose stroke never fails, and the 
Graiai told me where I should find the nymphs who gave me the 
helmet of Hades, and the bag which has borne hither the Gor¬ 
gon’s head, and the golden sandals which have carried me like a 
dream over land and sea. O, my mother, I have done wondrous 
things by the aid of Zeus. By me the doom of Medusa has- 


ANDROMEDA. 


579 


been accomplished, and I think that the words which thou didst 
speak were true, for the image of the Gorgon’s face, which I saw 
in Athene’s mirror, was as the countenance of one whose beauty 
has been marred by a woeful agony, and whenever I have looked 

since on that image, it has seemed to me as though it wore the 

/ 

look of one who rested in death from a mighty pain. So, as the 
giant Atlas looked on that grief-stricken brow, he felt no more 
the weight of the heaven as it rested on him, and the gray hair 
which streamed from his head seemed to me, when I left him, 
like the snow which clothes the mountain-tops in winter. So, 
when from the happy gardens of the Hyperboreans I came to 
the rich Libyan plain, and had killed the monster who sought to 
slay Andromeda, the Gorgon’s face turned Phineus and his peo¬ 
ple into stone, when they sought to slay me because I had won 
her love.” Then Danae answered the questions of Perseus, and 
told him how Polydektes had vexed her with his evil words, and 
how Diktys alone had shielded her from his brother. And Per- 
seus'bade Danae be of good cheer, because the recompense of 
Polydektes was nigh at hand. 

There was joy and feasting in Seriphos when the news was 
Spread abroad that Perseus had brought back for the King the 
head of the Gorgon Medusa, and Polydektes made a great feast, 
and the wine sparkled in the goblets as the minstrels sang of the 
(Treat deeds of the son of Danae. Then Perseus told him of all 
that Hermes and Athene had done for him. He showed them 
the helmet of Hades, and the golden sandals, and the unerring 
sword, and then he unveiled the face of Medusa before Poly¬ 
dektes and the men who had aided him against his mother, 
Danae. So Perseus looked upon them, as they sat at the rich 
banquet, stiff and cold as a stone, and he felt that his mighty 
work was ended. Then, at his prayer, came Hermes, the mes¬ 
senger of Zeus, and Perseus gave him back the helmet of Hades, 
and the sword which had slain the Gorgon, and the sandals 


S 8 ° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


which had borne him through the air like a dream. And 
Hermes grave the helmet again to Hades, and the sandals to the 
Ocean nymphs, but Athene took the Gorgon’s head, and it was 
placed upon her shield. 

Then Perseus spake to Danae, and said, u My mother, it is 
time for thee to go home. The Gorgon’s face has turned 
Polydektes and his people into stone, and Diktys rules in Seri- 
phos.” So once more the white sails were filled with the eastern 
breeze, and Danae saw once more the Argive land. From city 
to city spread the tidings that Perseus was come, who had slain 
the Gorgon, and the youths and maidens sang “ Io Paian,” as 
they led the conqueror to the halls of Akrisios. 


AKRI£IO£. 

The shouts of u Io Paian ” reached the ear of Akrisios, as 
he sat in his lonely hall, marveling at the strange things which 
must have happened to waken the sounds of joy and triumph; 
for, since the day when Danae was cast forth with her babe on 
the raging waters, the glory of war had departed from Argos, 
and it seemed as though all the chieftains had lost their ancient 
strength and courage. But the wonder of Akrisios was changed 
to a great fear when they told him that his child, Danae, was 
coming home, and that the hero, Perseus, had rescued her from 
Polydektes, the King of Seriphos. The memory of all the 
wrong which he had done to his daughter tormented him, and 
still in his mind dwelt the words of warning which came from 
Phoebus Apollo that he should one da}’’ be slain by the hands of 
her son; so that, as he looked forth on the sky, it seemed to him 
as though he should see the sun again no more. 

In haste and terror Akrisios fled from his home. He tarried 






AKRISIOS. 581 

not to hear the voice of Danae, he stayed not to look on the face 
of Perseus, nor to see that the hero who had slain the Gordon 
bore him no malice for the wrongs of the former days. Quickly 
he sped over hill and dale, across river and forest, till he came 
to the house of Teutamidas, the great chieftain who ruled in 
Larissa. 

The feast was spread in the banquet-hall, and the Thessalian 

minstrels sang of the brave deeds of Perseus, for even thither 

had his fame reached already. They told how from the land of 

toiling men he had passed to the country of the Graiai and the 

Gorgons, how he had slain the mortal Medusa and stiffened the 

giant Atlas into stone, and then they sang how, with the sword 

of Hermes, he smote the mighty beast which ravaged the Libyan 

land, and won Andromeda to be his bride. Then Teutamidas 

* 

spake, and said, u My friend, I envy thee for thy happy lot, for 
not often in the world of men may fathers reap such glory from 
their children as thou hast won from Perseus. In the ages to 
come men shall love to tell of his great and good deeds, and 
from him shall spring mighty chieftains, who shall be stirred up 
to a purer courage when they remember how Perseus toiled and 
triumphed before them. And now tell me, friend, wherefore 
thou hast come hither. Thy cheek is pale, and thy hand trem¬ 
bles, but I think not that it can be from the weight of years, for 
thy old age is yet but green, and thou mayest hope still to see 
the children of Perseus clustering around thy knees.” 

But Akrisios could scarcely answer for shame and fear; for 
he cared not to tell Teutamidas of the wrongs which he had 
done to Danae. So he said, hastily, that he had fled from a great 
danger, for the warning of Phoebus was that he should be slain 
by his daughter’s son. And Teutamidas said, “ bias thy daugh¬ 
ter yet another son?” And then Akrisios was forced to own 
that he had fled from the hero, Perseus. But the face of Teu¬ 
tamidas flushed with anger as he said, u O shame, that thou 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


S 82 

shoulclst flee from him who ought to be thy glory and thy pride! 
Everywhere men speak of the goodness and the truth ot Perseus, 
and I will not believe that he bears thee a grudge for anything 
that thou hast done to him. Nay, thou doest to him a more 
Grievous wrong 1 in shunning him now than when thou didst cast 
him forth in his mother’s arms upon the angry sea.” So he 
pleaded with Akrisios for Perseus, until he spoke the word that 
Danae and her child might come to the great games which were 
to be held on the plain before Larissa. 

With shouts of “ Io Paian ” the youths and maidens went 
out before Perseus as he passed from the city of Akrisios to go 
to Larissa, and everywhere as he journeyed the people came 
forth from town and village to greet the bright hero and the 
beautiful Andromeda, whom he had saved from the Libyan 
dragon. Onwards they went, spreading gladness everywhere, 
till the cold heart of Akrisios himself was touched with a feel¬ 
ing of strange joy, as he saw the band of youths and maidens 
who came before them to the house of Teutamidas. So once 
more his child Danae stood before him, beautiful still, although 
the sorrows of twenty years had dimmed the brightness of her 
eye, and the merry laugh of her youth was gone. Once more 
he looked on the face of Perseus, and he listened to the kindly 
greeting of the hero whom he had wronged in the days of his 
helpless childhood. But he marveled yet more at the beauty of 
Andromeda, and he thought within himself that throughout the 
wide earth were none so fair as Perseus and the wife whom he 
had won with the sword of Hermes. 

Then, as they looked on the chiefs who strove together in 
the games, the shouting of the crowd told at the end of each 
that Perseus was the conqueror. At last they stood forth to see 
which should have most strength of arm in hurling the quoit; 
and, when Perseus aimed at the mark, the quoit swerved aside 
and smote Akrisios on the head, and the warning of Phoebus 
Apollo was accomplished. 


AKRISIOS. 


583 


Great was the sorrow of Teutamidas and his people as the 
chieftain of Argos lay dead before them; but deeper still and 
more bitter was the grief of Perseus for the deed which he had 
unwittingly done, and he said, u O Zeus, I have striven to keep 
my hands clean and to deal truly, and a hard recompense hast 
thou given me.” 

So they went back mourning to Argos, but although he 
strove heartily to rule his people well, the grief of Perseus could 
not be lessened while he remained in the house of Akrisios. So 
he sent a messenger to his kinsman, Megapenthes, who ruled at 
Tiryns, and said, “ Come thou and rule in Argos, and I will go 
and dwell among thy people.” So Perseus dwelt at Tiryns, and 
the men of the city rejoiced that he had come to rule over them. 
Thus the months and years went quickly by, as Perseus strove 
with all his might to make his people happy and to guard them 
against their enemies. At his bidding, the Cyclopes came from 
the far-off Lykian land, and built the mighty walls which gird 
the city round about; and they helped him to build yet another 
city, which grew in after-times to be even greater and mightier 
than Tiryns. So rose the walls of Mykenae, and there, too, the 
people loved and honored Perseus for his just dealing more than 
for all the deeds which he had done with the sword of Hermes. 
At last the time came when the hero must rest from his long 
toil, but as they looked on his face, bright and beautiful even in 
death, the minstrels said, u We shall hear his voice no more, but 
the name of Perseus shall never die.” 


KEPHALO£ AND PROKRI£. 

Of all the maidens in the land of Attica none was so beau¬ 
tiful as Prokris, the daughter of King Erechtheus. She was the 
delight of her father’s heart, not so much for her beauty as for 



5 8 4 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


her goodness and her gentleness. The sight of her fair face and 
the sound of her happy voice brought gladness to all who saw 
and heard her. Every one stopped to listen to the songs which 
she sang as she sat working busily at the ioom, and the maidens 
who dwelt with her were glad when the hour came to go with 
Prokris and wash their clothes or draw water from the fountain. 
Then, when all her tasks were ended, she would roam over hill 
and valley, into every nook and dell. There was no spot in all 
the land where Prokris had not been. She lay down to rest in 
the top of the highest hills, or by the side of the stream where 

it murmured among the rocks far down in 
the woody glen. So passed her days away; 
and while all loved her and rejoiced to see 
her face, only Prokris knew not of her own 
beauty, and thought not of her own good¬ 
ness. But they amongst whom she lived, 
the old and the young, the sorrowful and 
happy, all said that Prokris, the child of 
Herse, was always as fair and bright as the 
dew of early morning. 

Once in her many wanderings she had 

climbed the heights of Mount Ilymettos, 
thalia (Muse of Comedy). a } m0 st before the first streak of dawn was 

seen in the sky. Far away, as she looked over the blue sea, her 
eyes rested on the glittering cliffs of Eubcea, and she looked and 
saw that a ship was sailing towards the shore beneath the hill of 
Hymettos. Presently it reached the shore, and she gould see that a 
man stepped out of the ship, and began to climb the hill, while the 
rest remained on the beach. As he came nearer to her, Prokris 
knew that his face was very fair, and she thought that she had 
never seen such beauty in mortal man before. She had heard 
that sometimes the gods come down from their home on Olym- 
pos to mingle among the children of men, and that sometimes 









KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 


5S5 


the bright heroes were seen in the places where they had lived 
on the earth before they were taken to dwell in the halls of Zeus. 
As the stranger came near to her the sun rose brightly and with¬ 
out a cloud from the dark sea, and its light fell on his face, and 
made it gleam with more than mortal beauty. Gently he came 
towards her, and said, u Lady, I am come from the far-off east¬ 
ern land, and as I drew near to this shore I saw that some one 
was resting here upon the hill. So I hastened to leave the ship 
that I might learn the name of the country which 1 have reached. 
My name is Kephalos, and my father, Helios, lives in a beautiful 
home beyond the sea, but I am traveling over the earth, till I 
shall have gone over every land and seen all the cities which 
men have built. Tell me now thy name, and the name of this 
fair land.” Then she said, “ Stranger, my name is Prokris, and 
1 am the daughter of King Erechtheus, who dwells at Athens 
yonder, where thon seest the bright line of Kephisos flowing 
gently into the sea.” So Prokris guided the stranger to her 
father’s house, and Erechtheus received him kindly, and spread a 
banquet before him. But as they feasted and drank the dark 
red wine, he thought almost that Kephalos must be one of the 
bright heroes come back to his own land, so fair and beautiful 
was he to look upon, and that none save only his own child, Pro¬ 
kris, might be compared to him for beauty. 

Long time Kephalos abode in the house of Erechtheus, and, 
each day, he loved more and more the bright and happy Prokris; 
and Prokris became brighter and happier, as the eye of Kephalos 
rested gently and lovingly upon her. At last Kephalos told her 
of his love, and Erechtheus gave him his child to be his wife, 
and there were none in all the land who dwelt together in a love 
so deep and pure as that of Kephalos and Prokris. 

But among- the maidens of that land there was one who 
was named Eos. She, too, was fair and beautiful, but she had 
not the gentle spirit and the guileless heart of Prokris. When- 


586 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


ever Kephalos wandered forth with his young wife, then Eos 
would seek to follow them stealthily, or, if she met them by 
chance, she would suffer her eyes to rest long on the fair face of 
Kephalos, till she began to envy the happiness of Prokris. And 
so one day, when there was a feast of the people of the land, 
and the maidens danced on the soft grass around the fountain, 
Kephalos and Eos talked together, and Eos suffered herself to 
be carried away by her evil love. From that day she sought 
more and more to talk with Kephalos, till at last she bowed her 
head before him and told him softly of her love. But Kephalos 
said to her, gently, “Maiden, thou art fair to look upon, and there 
are others who may love thee well, and thou deservest the love 
of any. But I may not leave Prokris, whom Erechtheus has 
given to me to be my wife. Forgive me, maiden, if Prokris ap¬ 
pear to me even fairer than thou art; but I prize her gentleness 
more than her beauty, and Prokris,’with her'pure love and guile¬ 
less heart, shall be always dearer to me than any other in all the 
wide earth.” Then Eos answered him craftily, “O Kephalos, 
thou hast suffered thyself to be deceived. Prokris loves thee not 
as I do; prove her love and thou shalt see that I have spoken 
truly.” 

Thus Eos spoke to him for many days, and the great happi¬ 
ness of his life was marred, for the words of Eos would come 
back to his mind, as he looked on the happy and guileless Prokris. 
He had begun to doubt whether she were in very deed so pure 
and good as she seemed to be, and at last he said to Eos that he 
would prove her love. Then Eos told him how to do so, and 
said that if he came before his wife as a stranger and brought to 
her rich gifts, as from a distant land, she would forget her love 
for Kephalos. 

With a heavy heart he went away, for he foreboded evil 
days from the subtle words of Eos, and he departed and dwelt 
in another land. So the time passed on, until many weeks and 


KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 


587 


months had gone by, and Prokris mourned and wept in the house 
of Erechtheus, until the brightness of her eye was dimmed and 
her voice had lost its gladness. Day after day she sought 
throughout all the land for Kephalos, day after day she went up 
the hill of Hymettos, and as she looked towards the sea, she 
said, “Surely he will come back again; ah, Kephalos, thou 
knowest not the love which thou hast forsaken.” Thus she 
pined away in her sorrow, although to all who were around her 
she was as gentle and as loving as ever. Her father was now 
old and weak, and he knew that he must soon die, but it grieved 
him most of all that he must leave his child in a grief more 
bitter than if Kephalos had remained to comfort her. So Erech¬ 
theus died, and the people honored him as one of the heroes of 
the land, but Prokris remained in his house desolate, and all who 
saw her pitied her for her true love and her deep sorrow. At 
last she felt that Kephalos would return no more, and that she 
could no more be happy until she went to her father in the bright 
home of the heroes and the gods. 

Then a look of peace and loving patience came over her 
fair face, and she roamed with a strange gladness through every 
place where Kephalos had wandered with her; and so it came to 
pass that one day Prokris sat resting in the early morning on the 
eastern slopes of Mount Hymettos, when suddenly she beheld a 
man coming near to her. The dress was strange, but she half 
thought she knew his tall form and the light step as he came up 
the hill. Presently he came close to her, and she felt as if she 
were in a strange dream. The sight of his face and the glance 
of his eye carried her back to the days that were past, and she 
started up and ran towards him, saying, “ O Kephalos, thou art 
come back at last; how couldst thou forsake me so long?” But 
the stranger answered, in a low and gentle voice (for he saw 
that she was in great sorrow), u Lady, thou art deceived. I am 
a stranger come from a far country, and I seek to know the 


S S8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


name of this land.'” Then Prokris sat down again on the grass, 
and clasped her hands, and said, slowly, u It is changed and I 
can not tell how; yet surely it is the voice of Kephalos.” Then 
she turned to the stranger, and said, u O stranger, I am mourn¬ 
ing for Kephalos, whom I have loved and lost; he, too, came 
from a far land across the sea. Dost thou know him, and canst 
thou tell me where I may find him?” And the stranger an¬ 
swered, “I know him, lady; he is again in his own home, far 
away, whither thou canst not go; yet think not of him, for he 
has forgotten his love.” Then the stranger spoke to her in gen¬ 
tle and soothing words, until her grief became less bitter. Long 
time he abode in the land, and it pleased Prokris to hear his 
voice while his eye rested kindly on her, until she almost fancied 
that she was with Kephalos once more. And she thought to 
herself, u What must that land be, from which there can come 
two who are beautiful as the bright heroes?” 

So at last, when with soft and gentle words he had soothed 
her sorrow, the stranger spoke to her of his love, and Prokris 
felt that she, too, could love him, for had not Kephalos despised 
her love and forsaken her long ago? So he said, u Canst thou 
love me, Prokris, instead of Kephalos?” and when she gently 
answered “Yes,” then a change came over the face of the 
stranger, and she saw that it was Kephalos himself who clasped 
her in his arms. With a wild cry she broke from him, and as 
bitter tears ran down her cheek, she said, “ O Kephalos, Kepha¬ 
los, why hast thou done thus? all my love was thine, and thou 
hast drawn me into evil deeds.” Then, without tarrying for his 
answer, with all her strength she fled away, and she hastened to 
the sea shore and bade them make ready a ship to take her from 
her father’s land. Sorrowfully they did as she besought them, 
and they took her to the Island of Crete, far away in the eastern 
sea.* 

When Prokris was gone, the maiden Eos came and stood 


KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 


5 8 9 


before Kephalos, and she said to him, “ My words are true, and 
now must thou keep the vow by which thou didst swear to love 
me, if Prokris should yield herself to a stranger.” So Kephalos 
dwelt with Eos, but for all her fond words he could not love her 
as still he loved Prokris. 

Meanwhile Prokris wandered, in deep and bitter sorrow, 
among the hills and valleys of Crete. She cared not to look on 
the fair morning as it broke on the pale path of night; she cared 
not to watch the bright sun as he rose from the dark sea, or 
when he sank to rest behind the western waters. For the earth 
had lost all its gladness, and she felt that she could die. But 
one day as she sat on a hill-side and looked on the broad plains 
which lay stretched beneath, suddenly a woman stood before her, 
brighter and more glorious than the daughters of men, and Pro¬ 
kris knew, from the spear which she held in her hand and the 
hound which crouched before her, that it was Artemis, the 
mighty child of Zeus and Leto. Then Prokris fell at her feet, 
and said, “ O lady Artemis, pity me in my great sorrow;” and 
Artemis answered, “ Fear not, Prokris, I know thy grief. Kepha¬ 
los hath done thee a great wrong, but he shall fall by the same 
device wherewith he requited thy pure and trusting love.” Then 
she gave to Prokris her hound and her spear, and said, “ Hasten 
now to thine own land, and go stand before Kephalos, and I will 
put a spell upon him that he may not know thee. Follow him 
in the chase, and at whatsoever thou mayest cast this spear, it 
shall fall, and from this hound no prey which thou mayest seek 
for shall ever escape.” 

So Prokris sailed back to the land of Erechtheus with the 
gifts of Artemis. And when Kephalos went to the chase, 
Prokris followed him, and all the glory of the hunt fell to her 
portion, for the hound struck down whatever it seized, and her 
spear never missed its aim. And Kephalos marveled greatly, 
and said to the maiden, “Give me thy hound and thy spear,” 


59 ° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


and he besought the stranger many times for the gift, till at last 
Prokris said, “ I will not give them but for thy love, thou must 
forsake Eos and come to dwell with me.” Then Kephalos said, 
“ I care not for Eos; so only I have thy gifts, thou shalt have my 
love.” But even as he spoke these words, a change came over 
the face of the stranger, and he saw that it was Prokris herself 
who stood before him. And Prokris said, u Ah, Kephalos, once 
more thou hast promised to love me, and now may I keep thy 
love, and remain with thee always. Almost I may say that I 
never loved any one but thee, but thou art changed, Kephalos, 
although still the same, else wouldst thou not have promised to 
love me for the gift of a hound and a spear.” Then Kephalos 
besought Prokris to forgive him, and he said, u I am caught in 
the trap which I laid for thee, but I have fallen deeper. When 
thou gavest thy love to me as to a stranger, it pleased thee yet to 
think that I was like Kephalos, and my vow to thee has been 
given for the mere gifts which I coveted.” But Prokris -only 
said, u My joy is come back to me again, and now I will leave 
thee no more.” 

So once more in the land of Erechtheus Prokris and 
Kephalos dwelt together in a true and deep love. Once more 
they wandered over hill and dale as in the times that were past, 
and looked out from the heights of Plymettos to the white shore 
of Euboea, as it glistened in the light of early day. But when¬ 
ever he went to the chase with the hound and the spear of Arte¬ 
mis, Prokris saw that Eos still watched if haply she might talk 
with Kephalos alone, and win him again for herself. Once more 
she was happy, but her happiness was not what it had been when 
Kephalos first gave her his love, while her father, Erechtheus, 
was yet alive. She knew that Eos still envied her, and she 
sought to guard Kephalos from the danger of her treacherous 
look and her enticing words. She kept ever near him in the 
chase, although he saw her not, and thus it came to pass that one 




KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS 


59 1 


day, as Prokris watched him from a thicket, the folds of her 
dress rustled against the branches, so that Kephalos thought it 



NUMA pomptlius visiting the nymph egeria. 


was some beast moving from his den, and hurled at her the spear 
of Artemis that never missed its mark. Then he heard the cry 

















































RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


59 2 

as of one who has received a deadly blow, and when he hastened 
into the thicket, Prokris lay smitten down to the earth before 
him. The coldness of death was on her face, and her bright eye 
was dim, but her voice was as loving as ever, while she said, u O 
Kephalos, it grieves me not that thy arm hath struck me down. 
I have thy love, and having it, I go to the land of the bright 
heroes, where my father, Erechtheus, is waiting for his child, and 
where thou, too, shalt one day meet me, to dwell with me for¬ 
ever .’ 1 One loving look she gave to Kephalos, and the smile of 
parting vanished in the stillness of death. 

Then over the body of Prokris Kephalos wept tears of 
bitter sorrow, and he said, u Ah, Eos, Eos, well hast thou re¬ 
warded me for doubting once a love such as thou couldst never 
feel.” Many days and many weeks he mourned for his lost 
love, and daily he sat on the slopes of Hymettos, and thought 
with a calm and almost happy grief how Prokris there had 
rested by his side. All this time the spear of Artemis was idle, 
and the hound went not forth to the chase, until chieftains came 
from other lands to ask his aid against savage beasts or men. 
Among them came Amphitryon, the lord of Thebes, to ask for 
help, and Kephalos said, u I will do as thou wouldst have me. 
It is time that I should begin to journey to the bright land where 
Prokris dwells, beyond the western sea.” 

So he went with Amphitryon into the Theban land, and 
hunted out the savage beasts which wasted his harvests, and then 
he journeyed on till he came to the home of Phcebus Apollo, at 
Delphi. There the god bade him hasten to the western sea, 
where he should once again find Prokris. Onward he went, 
across the heights and vales of EEtolia, until he stood on the 
Leukadian cape and looked out on the blue water. The sun 
was sinking low down in the sky, and the golden clouds of even¬ 
ing were gathered round him as he hastened to his rest. And 
Kephalos said, u Here must I rest, also, for my journey is done, 


KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 


593 


and Prokris is waiting for me in the brighter land.” There on 
the white cliff he stood, and just as the sun touched the waters, 
the strength of Kephalos failed him, and he sank gently into the 
sea. 

So again, in the homes of the bright heroes, Kephalos found 
the wife whom he had loved and slain. 


£KYLLA. 

From the turret of her father’s house, Skylla, the daughter 
of Nisos, watched the ships of King Minos, as they drew near 
from the Island of Crete. Their white sails and the spears of 
the Cretan warriors sparkled in the sunshine, as the crested 
waves rose and fell, carrying the long billows to the shore. As 
she watched the goodly sight, Skylla thought sadly of the days 
that were gone, when her father had sojourned as a guest in the 
halls of King Minos, and she had looked on his face as on the 
face of a friend. But now there was strife between the chieftains 
of Crete and Megara, for Androgeos, the son of Minos, had 
been slain by evil men as he journeyed from Megara to Athens, 
and Minos was come hither with his warriors to demand the 
price of his blood. But when the herald came with the message 
of Minos, the face of Nisos, the King, flushed with anger, as he 
said, “ Go thy way to him that sent thee, and tell him that he 
who is guarded by the undying gods cares not for the wrath of 
men whose spears shall be snapped like bulrushes.” Then said 
the herald, “ I can not read thy riddle, chieftain of Megara, but 
the blood of the gods runs in the veins of Minos, and it can not 
be that the son of Europa shall fall under the hands of thee or 
of thy people.” 

The sun went down in a flood of golden glory behind the 



594 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


purple heights of Geraneia, and as the mists of evening fell upon 
the land, the warriors of Minos made ready for the onset on the 
morrow. But when the light of Eos flushed the eastern sky, 
and the men of Crete went forth to the battle, their strength 
and their brave deeds availed them nothing, for the arms of the 
mightiest became weak as the hands of a little child, because 
the secret spell, in which lay the strength of the undying gods, 
guarded the city of Nisos. And so it came to pass that, as day 
by day they fought in vain against the walls of Megara, the 
spirit of the men of Crete waxed feeble, and many said that they 
came not thither to fight against the deathless gods. 

But each day as Minos led his men against the city, the 
daughter of Nisos had looked forth from her turret, and she saw 
his face, beautiful as in the days when she had sojourned in his 
house at Gnossos, and flushed with the pride and eagerness of the 
war. Then the heart of Skylla was filled with a strange love, 
and she spake musingly within herself, “ To what end is this 
strife of armed men? Love is beyond all treasures, and brighter 
for me than the love of others would be one kindly look from the 
bright son of Europa. I know the spell which keeps the city of 
the Megarians, and where is the evil of the deed, if I take the pur¬ 
ple lock of hair which the gods have given to my father as a 
pledge that so long as it remains untouched, no harm shall befall 
his people? If I give it to Minos the struggle is ended, and it 
may be that I shall win his love.” 

So when the darkness of night fell again upon the earth, 
and all the sons of men were buried in a deep sleep, Skylla en¬ 
tered stealthily into her father’s chamber, and shore off the pur¬ 
ple lock in which lay his strength and the strength of his peo¬ 
ple. Then, as the tints of early morning stole across the dark 
heavens, the watchmen of the Cretans beheld the form of a 
woman as she drew nigh to them and bade them lead her to the 
tent of King Minos. When she was brought before him, with 


SKYLLA. 


595 


downcast face she bowed herself, to the earth, and said, “ I have 
sojourned in thy halls in the days that are gone, when there was 
peace between thee and the house of my father, Nisos. O 
Minos, peace is better than war, and of all treasures the most 
precious is love. Look on me, then, gently as in former days, 
for at a great price do I seek thy kindness. In this purple lock 
is the strength of my father and his people.” Then a strange 
smile passed over the face of Minos, as he said, u The gifts of 
fair maidens must not be lightly cast aside; the requital shall be 
made when the turmoil of strife is ended.” 

With a mighty shout the Cretan warriors went forth to the 
onset as the fiery horses of Helios rose up with his chariot into 
the kindled heaven. Straightway the walls of Megara fell, and 
the men of Crete burst into the house of Nisos. So the city 
was taken, and Minos made ready to go against the men of 
Athens, for on them also he sought to take vengeance for the 
death of his son, Androgeos. But even as he hastened to his 
ship, Skylla stood before him on the sea-shore. u Thy victory is 
from me,” she said, “where is the requital of my gift?” Then 
Minos answered, “ She who cares not for the father that has 
cherished her has her own reward, and the gift which thou didst 
bring me is beyond human recompense.” The light southern 
breeze swelled the outspread sail, and the ship of Minos danced 
gaily over the rippling waters. For a moment the daughter of 
Nisos stood musing on the shore. Then she stretched forth her 
arms, as with a low cry of bitter anguish she said, “ O Love, 
thy sting is cruel, and my life dies poisoned by the smile of 
Aphrodite!” So the waters closed over the daughter of Nisos, 
as she plunged in the blue depths; but the strife which vexes the 
sons of men follows her still, when the eagle swoops down from 
the clouds for his prey in the salt sea. 


59 6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


PHF[IXO£ AND HELLE. 

Many, many years ago, there was a man called Athamas, 
and he had a wife whose name was Nephele. -They had two 
children—a boy and a girl. The name of the boy was Phrixos, 
and his sister was called Ilelle. They were good and happy 
children, and played about merrily in the fields, and their mother, 
Nephele, loved them dearly. But by and by their mother was 
taken away from them, and their father, Athamas, forgot all 
about her, for he had not loved her as he ought to do. And 
very soon he married another wife whose name was Ino, but she 
was harsh and unkind to Phrixos and Helle, and they began to 
be very unhappy. Their cheeks were no more rosy, and their 
faces no longer looked bright and cheerful, as they used to do 
when they could go home to their mother, Nephele, and so they 
played less and less, until none would have thought that they 
were the same children who were so happy before Nephele was 
taken away. But Ino hated these poor children, for she was a 
cruel woman, and she longed to get rid of Phrixos and Helle, 
and she thought how she might do so. So she said that Phrixos 
spoiled all the corn, and prevented it from growing, and that they 
would not be able to make any bread till he was killed. At last 
she persuaded Athamas that he ought to kill Phrixos. But al¬ 
though Athamas cared nothing about Phrixos and Helle, still 
their mother, Nephele, saw what was going on, although they 
could not see her, because there was a cloud between them; and 
Nephele was determined that Athamas should not hurt Phrixos. 
So she sent a ram which had a golden fleece to carry her chil¬ 
dren away, and one day, when they were sitting down on the 
grass (for they were too sad and unhappy to play), they saw a 
beautiful ram come into the held. And Phrixos said to Plelle, 
“ Sister, look at this sheep that is coming to us; see, he shines all 



PHRIXOS AND HELLE. 


597 


over like gold—his horns are made of gold, and all the hair on 
his body is golden, too.” So the ram came nearer and nearer, 
and at last he lay down quite close to them, and looked so quiet 
that Phrixos and Helle were not at all afraid of him. Then 
they played with the sheep, and they took him by the horns, 
and stroked his golden fleece, and patted him on the head, and 
the ram looked so pleased that they thought they would like to 
have a ride on his back. So Phrixos got up first, and put his 
arms round the ram’s neck, and little Helle got up behind her 
brother and put her arms round his waist, and then they called 
to the ram to stand up and carry them about. And the ram 
knew what they wanted, and began to walk first, and then to 
run. By and by it rose up from the ground and began to fly. 
And when it first left the earth, Phrixos and Ilelle became 
frightened, and they begged the ram to go down again and put 
them upon the ground, but the ram turned his head round, and 
looked so gently at them, that they were not afraid any more. 
So Phrixos told Helle to hold on tight round his waist, and he 
said, u Dear Helle, do not be afraid, for I do not think the ram 
means to do us any harm, and I almost fancy that he must have 
been sent by our dear mother, Nephele, and that he will carry us 
to some better country, where the people will be kind to us, as 
our mother used to be.” 

Now it so happened that, just as the ram began to fly away 
with the two children on its back, Ino and Athamas came into 
the field, thinking how they might kill Phrixos, but they could 
not see him anywhere; and when they looked up, then, high up 
in the air over their heads, they saw the ram flying away with 
the children on its back. So they cried out and made a great 
noise, and threw stones up into the air, thinking that the ram 
would get frightened and come down to the earth again; but the 
ram did not care how much noise they made or how many 
stones they threw up. On and on he flew, higher and higher, 



59 8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


till at last he looked only like a little yellow speck in the blue 
sky; and then Ino and Athamas saw him no more. 

So these wicked people sat down, very angry and unhappy.. 
They were sorry because Phrixos and Flelle had got away all 
safe, when they wanted to kill them. But they were much more 
sorry because they had gone away on the back of a ram whose 
fleece was made of gold. So Ino said to Athamas, “ What a 
pity that we did not come into the field a little sooner, for then 
we might have caught this ram and killed him and stripped off 
his golden fleece, and we should have been rich for the rest of 
our days.” 

All this time the ram was flying on and on, higher and 
higher, with Phrixos and Helle on his back. And Helle began 
to be very tired, and she said to her brother that she could not 
hold on much longer, and Phrixos said, “ Dear Helle, try and 
hold on as long as you possibly can; I dare say the ram will 
soon reach the place to which he wants to carry us, and then 
you shall lie down on the soft grass, and have such pleasant sleep 
that you will not feel tired any more.” But Helle said, “ Dear¬ 
est Phrixos, I will indeed try and hold fast as long as I can, but 
my arms are becoming so weak that I am afraid that I shall not 
be able to hold on long.” And by and by, when she grew 
weaker, she said, “ Dear Phrixos, if I fall off, you will not see 
Helle any more, but you must not forget her, you must always 
love her as she loved you, and then some day or other we shall 
see each other again, and live with our dear mother, Nephele.” 
Then Phrixos said, “Try and hold fast a little longer still, Helle. 
I can never love any one so much as I love you; but-I want you 
to live with me on earth, and I can not bear to think of living* 
without you.” 

But it was of no use that he talked so kindly and tried to 
encourage his sister, because he was not able to make her arms 
and her body stronger; so by and by poor Helle fell off, just as 


PHRIXOS AND HELLE. 


599 


they were flying over a narrow part of the sea, and she fell into 
it and was drowned. And the people called the part of the 
sea where she fell in, the Hellespont, which means the sea of 
little Helle. 

So Phrixos was left alone on the ram’s back; and the ram 
flew on and on a long way, till it came to the palace of Aietes, 
the King of Kolchis. And King Aietes was walking about in 
his garden, when he looked up into the sky, and saw something 
which looked very like a yellow sheep with a little boy on its 
back. And King Aietes was greatly amazed, for he had never 
seen so strange a thing before, and he called his wife and his 
children, and everyone else that was in his house, to come and 
see this wonderful sight. And they looked, and saw the ram 
coming nearer and nearer, and then they knew that it really was 
a boy on its back; and by and by the ram came down upon the 
earth near their feet, and Phrixos got off its back. Then King 
Aietes went up to him, and took him by the hand, and asked 
him who he was, and he said, u Tell me, little boy, how it is 
that you come here, riding in this strange way on the back of a 
ram.” Then Phrixos told him the ram had come into the field 
where he and Helle were playing, and had carried them away 
from Ino and Athamas, who were very unkind to them, and how 
little Helle had grown tired, and fallen off his back, and had 
been drowned in the sea. Then King Aietes took Phrixos up in 
his arms, and said, “Do not be afraid; 1 will take care of you 
and give you all that you want, and no one shall hurt you here; 
and the ram which has carried you through the air shall stay in 
this beautiful place, where he will have as much grass to eat as 
he can possibly want, and a stream to drink out of and to bathe 
in whenever he likes.” 

So Phrixos was taken into the palace of King Aietes, and 
everybody loved him, because he was good and kind, and never 
hurt any one. And he grew up healthy and strong, and he 


6oo 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


learned to ride about the country and to leap and run over the 
hills and valleys, and swim about in the clear rivers. He had 
not forgotten his sister Helle, for he loved her still as much as 
ever, and very often he wished that she could come and live 
with him again, but he knew that she was with his mother, 
Nephele, in the happy land to which good people go after they 
are dead. And therefore he was never unhappy when he 
thought of his sister, for he said, u One day I, too, shall be 
taken to that bright land, and live with my mother and my sis¬ 
ter again, if I try always to do what is right.’ 1 And very often 
he used to go and see the beautiful ram with the golden fleece 
feeding in the garden, and stroke its golden locks. 

But the ram was not so strong now as he was when he flew 
through the air with Phrixos and Plelle on his hack, for he was 
growing old and weak, and at last the ram died, and Phrixos 
was very sorry. And King Aietes had the golden fleece taken 
off from the body, and they nailed it up upon the wall, and every 
one came to look at the fleece which was made of gold, and to 
hear the story of Phrixos and Helle. 

But all this while Athamas and Ino had been hunting about 
everywhere, to see if they could And out where the ram had 
gone with the children on his back; and they asked every one 
whom they met, if they had seen a sheep with a fleece of gold 
carrying away two children. But no one could tell anything 
about it, till at last they came to the house of Aietes, the King 
of Kolchis. And they came to the door, and asked Aietes if he 
had seen Phrixos and Helle, and the sheep with the golden 
fleece. Then Aietes said to them. u I have never seen little 
Helle, for she fell off from the ram’s back, and was drowned in 
the sea, but Phrixos is‘with me still, and as for the ram, see here 
is his golden fleece nailed up upon the wall.” And just then 
Phrixos happened to come in, and iVietes asked them, “ Look, 
now, and tell me it this is the Phrixos whom you are seeking.”' 


PHRIXOS AND HELLE. 


601 


And when they saw him, they said, “ It is indeed the same 
Phrixos who went awa) 7 on the ram’s back, but he is grown into 
a great man;” and they began to be afraid, because they thought 
they could not now ill-treat Phrixos, as they used to do when he 
was a little boy. So they tried to entice him awa} r by pretend¬ 
ing to be glad to see him, and they said, u Come away with us, 
and we shall live happily together.” But Phrixos saw from the 
look of their faces that they were not telling the truth, and that 
they hated him still, and he said to them, “ I will not go with 
you; King Aietes has been very good to me, and you were 
always unkind to me and to my sister, and therefore I will never 
leave King Aietes to go away with you.” Then they said to 
Aietes, u Phrixos may stay here, but give us the golden fleece 
which came from the ram that carried away the children.” But 
the King said, u I will not—I know that you only ask for it be¬ 
cause you wish to sell it, and therefore you shall not have it.” 

Then Ino and Athamas turned away in a rage, and went to 
their own country again, wretched and unhappy because they 
could not get the golden fleece. And they told every one that 
the fleece of the ram was in the palace of the King of Kolchis, 
and they tried to persuade every one to go in a great ship and 
take away the fleece by force. So a great many people came, 
and they all got into a large ship called the Argo, and they 
sailed and sailed, until at last they came to Kolchis. Then they 
sent some one to ask Aietes to give them the golden fleece, but 
he would not, and they would never have found the fleece again, 
if the wise maiden, Medeia, had not shown Iason how he might 
outdo the bidding of King Aietes. But when Iason had won the 
prize and they had sailed back again to their own land, the fleece 
was not given to Athamas and Ino. The other people took it, 
for they said, “It is quite right that we should have it, to make 
up for all our trouble in helping to get it.” So, with all their 
greediness, these wretched people remained as poor and as miser¬ 
able as ever. 



602 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


MEDEIA. 

« 

Far away in the Kolchian land, where her father, Aietes, 
was King, the wise maiden, Medeia, saw and loved Iason, who 
had come in the ship, Argo, to search for the golden fleece. To 
her Zeus had given a wise and cunning heart, and she had power 
over the hidden things of the earth, and nothing in the broad sea 
could withstand her might. She had spells to tame the monsters 
which vex the children of men, and to bring back youth to the 
wrinkled face and the tottering limbs of the old. But the spells 

v 

of Eros were mightier still, and the wise maiden forgot her 
cunning as she looked on the fair countenance of Iason, and she 
said within herself that she would make him conqueror in his 
struggle for the golden fleece, and go with him to be his wife in 
the far-off western land. So King Aietes brought up in vain the 
fire-breathing bulls that they might scorch Iason as he plowed 
the land with the dragon’s teeth, and in vain from these teeth 
sprang up the harvest of armed men ready for strife and blood¬ 
shed. For Medeia had anointed the body of Iason with oint¬ 
ment, so that the fiery breath of the bulls hurt him not; and by 
her bidding he cast a stone among the armed men, and they 
fought with one another for the stone till all lay dead upon the 
ground. Still King Aietes would not give to him the golden 
fleece, and the heart of Iason was cast down till Medeia came to 
him and bade him follow her. Then she led him to a hidden 
dell where the dragon guarded the fleece, and she laid her spells 
on the monster and brought a heavy sleep upon his eye, while 
Iason took the fleece and hastened to carry it on board the ship 
Argo. 

So Medeia left her father’s house, and wandered with Iason 
into many lands—to Iolkos, to Athens, and to Argos. And 



MEDEIA. 


6o 3 


wherever she went, men marveled at her for her wisdom and 
her beaut}, but as they looked on her fair face and listened to her 


gentle voice, they knew not the power of the 
maiden’s wrath if any one should do her 
wrong. So she dwelt at Iolkos, in the house 
of Pelias, who had sent forth Iason to look for 
the golden fleece, that he might not be King- 
in his stead, and the daughters of Pelias loved 
the beautiiul Medeia, for they dreamed not 
that she had sworn to avenge on Pelias the 
wrong which he had done to Iason. Craftily 
she told the daughters of Pelias of the power 
of her spells, which could tame the fire-breath 
ing bulls, and lull the dragon to sleep, and 
bring back the brightness of youth to the 
withered cheeks of the old. And the dauMi- 
ters of Pelias said to her, u Our father is old, 



POLYHYMNIA ( MuSC of 

Rhetoric and Elo¬ 
quence ). 


and his limbs are weak and tottering, show us how once 
more he can be made young.” Then Medeia took a ram and 
cut it up, and put its limbs into a caldron, and when she had 
boiled them on the hearth there came forth a lamb, and she said,, 
u So shall your father be brought back again to youth and 
strength, if ye will do to him as I have done to the ram, and 
when the time is come, I will speak the words of my spell, and 
the change shall be accomplished.” So the daughters of Pelias 
followed her counsel, and put the body of their father into the 
caldron, and, as it boiled on the hearth, Medeia said, u I must go 
up to the house-top and look forth on the broad heaven, that I 
may know the time to speak the words of my charm.” And 
the Are waxed fiercer and fiercer, but Medeia gazed on at the 
bright stars, and came not down from the house-top till the limbs- 
of Pelias were consumed away. 

Then a look of fierce hatred passed over her face, and she. 









RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


604 

said, u Daughters of Pelias, ye have slain your lather, and I go 
with Iason to the land of Argos.” So thither she sped with 
him in her dragon chariot, which bore them to the house of King 
Kreon. 

Long time she abode in Argos, rejoicing in the love of 
Iason and at the sight of her children, who were growing up in 
strength and beauty. But Iason cared less and less for the wise 
and cunning Medeia, and he loved more to look on Glauke, the 
daughter of the King, till at last he longed to be free from the 
love and the power of Medeia. 

Then men talked in Argos of the love of Iason for the 
beautiful Glauke, and Medeia heard how he was going to wed 
another wife. Once more her face grew dark with anger, as 
when she left the daughters of Pelias mourning for their father, 
and she vowed a vow that Iason should repent of his great 
treachery. But she hid her anger within her heart, and her eye 
was bright and her voice was soft and gentle as she spake to 
Iason and said, u They tell me that thou art to wed the daughter 
of Kreon; I had not thought thus to lose the love for which I 
left my father’s house and came with thee to the land of strang¬ 
ers. Yet do I chide thee not, for it may be that thou canst not 
love the wise Kolchian maid like the soft daughters of the 
Argive land, and yet thou knowest not altogether how I have 
loved thee. Go, then, and dwell with Glauke, and I will send her 
a bright gift, so that thou mayest not forget the days that are 
past.” 

So Iason went away, well pleased that Medeia had spoken 
to him gently and upbraided him not, and presently his children 
came after him to the house of Kreon, and said, u Father, we 
have brought a wreath for Glauke, and a robe which Helios gave 
to our mother, Medeia, before she came away with thee from the 
house of her father.” Then Glauke came forth eagerly to take 
the gifts, and she placed the glittering wreath on her head, and 


MEDEIA. 


6 ° S 


wrapped the robe round her slender form. Like a happy child, 
she looked into a mirror to watch the sparkling of the jewels on 
her lair forehead, and sat down on the couch playing with the 
folds ol the robe of Helios. But soon a look of pain passed 
over her face, and her eyes shone with a fiery light as she lifted 
her hand to take the wreath away, but the will of Medeia was 
accomplished, for the poison had eaten into her veins, and the 
robe clung with a deadly grasp to her scorched and wasted 
limbs. Through the wide halls rang the screams of her agony, 
as Kreon clasped his child in his arms. Then sped the poison 
through his veins also, and Kreon died with Glauke. 

Then Medeia went with her children to the house-top, and 
looked up to the blue heaven, and stretching forth her arms, she 
said, “ O Helios, who didst give to me the wise and cunning 
heart, I have avenged me on Iason, even as once I avenged him 
on Pelias. Thou hast given me thy power; yet, it may be, 1 
would rather have the life-long love of the helpless daughters of 
men.” 

Presently her dragon chariot rose into the sky, and the peo¬ 
ple of Argos saw the mighty Medeia no more. 


THE£EU£. 

Many a long year ago a little child was playing on the white 
sand of the Bay of Troizen. His golden locks streamed in the 
breeze as he ran amongst the rippling waves which flung them¬ 
selves lazily on the beach. Sometimes he clapped his hands in 
o-lee as the water washed over his feet, and he stopped again to 
look with wondering eyes at the strange things which were bask¬ 
ing on the sunny shore, or gazed on the mighty waters which 
stretched away bright as a sapphire stone into the far distance. 



‘6o6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


But presently some sadder thoughts troubled the child, for the 
look of gladness passed away from his lace, and he went slowly 
to his mother, who sat among the weed-grown rocks, watching 
her child play. 

“ Mother,” said the boy, “ I am very happy here, but may 
I not know to-day why I never see my lather as other children 
do? I am not now so very young, and I think that you feel 
sometimes lonely, for your face looks sad and sorrowful,as il you 
were grieving for some one who is gone away.” 

Fondly and proudly the mother looked on her boy, and 
smoothed the golden locks on his forehead, as she said, u My 
child, there is much to make us happy, and it may be that many 
•days of gladness are in store for us both. But there is labor and 
toil for all, and many a hard task awaits thee, my son. Only 
htave a brave heart, and turn away from all things mean and 
foul, and strength will be given thee to conquer the strongest 
enemy. Sit down, then, here by my side, and I will tell thee a 
tale which may make thee sad, but which must not make thee 
unhappy, for none can do good to others who waste their lives in 
weeping. Many summers have come and gone since the day 
when a stranger drew nigh to the house of my father, Pittheus. 
The pale light of evening was fading from the sky, but we could 
■see, by his countenance and the strength of his stalwart form, 
that he was come ol a noble race and could do brave deeds. 
When Pittheus went forth from the threshold to meet him, the 
•stranger grasped his hand, and said, 4 I come to claim the rights 
ot our ancient friendship, for our enemies have grown too 
mighty tor us, and Pandion, my father, rules no more in Athens. 
Here, then, let me tarry till I can find a way to punish the men 
who have driven away their King and made his children wan¬ 
derers on the earth.’ So Aigeus sojourned in my father’s house, 
and soon he won my love, and I became his wife. Swiftly and 
fiappily the days went by, and one thing only troubled me, and 


THESEUS 


607 




this was the thought that one day he must lea-ve me, to fight 
with his enemies and place his father again upon his throne. 
But even this thought was forgotten for awhile, when Aigeus 
looked on thee for the first time, and, stretching forth his hands 



SPHINX OP EGYPT. 


towards heaven, said, 4 O Zeus, that dwellest in the dark cloud, 
look down on my child, and give him strength that he may be a 
better man than his father, and if thou orderest that his life shall 
be one of toil, still let him have the joy which is the lot of all 







































































6 o8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


who do their work with a cheerful heart and keep their hands 
from all defiling things. 1 Then the days passed by more quickly 
and happily than ever, but at last there came the messengers 
from Athens, to tell him that the enemies of Pandion were at 
strife among themselves, and that the time was come that 
Aigeus should fight for his father’s house. Not many days after 
this we sat here, watching thee at play among the weeds and 
flowers that climb among the rocks, when thy father put his 
arms gently round me, and said, ‘ Aithra, best gift of all that 
the gods have ever given to me, I leave thee to go to*my own 
land, and I know not what things may befall me there, nor 
whether I may return hither to take thee to dwell with me at 
Athens. But forget not the days that are gone, and faint not for 
lack of hope that we may meet again in the days that are com¬ 
ing. Be a brave mother to our child, that so he, too, may grow 
up brave and pure, and when he is old enough to know what he 
must do, tell him that he is born of a noble race, and that he 
must one day fight stoutly to win the heritage of his fathers.’ 
And now, my son, thou seest yonder rock, over which the wild 
briars have clambered. . No hands have moved it since the day 
when thy father lifted it up and placed beneath it his sword and 
his sandals. Then he put back the stone as it was before, and 
said to me, ‘ When thou thinkest fit, tell our child that he must 
wait until he is able to lift this stone. Then must he put my 
sandals on his feet, and gird my sword on his side, and journey 
to the city of his forefathers.’ From that day, my child, I have 
never seen thy father’s face, and the time is often weary, al¬ 
though the memory of the old days is sweet and my child is by 
my side to cheer me with his love. So now thou knowest some¬ 
thing of the task that lies before thee. Think of thy father’s 
words, and make thyself ready for the toil and danger that may 
fall to thy lot in time to come.” 

The boy looked wistfully into his mother’s face, and a 


THESEUS. 


609 


strange feeling of love and hope and strength filled his heart, 
as he saw the tears start to her eyes when*the tale was ended. 
Ilis arms were clasped around her neck, but he said only, 
u Mother, I will wait patiently till I am strong enough to lift 
the stone, but before that time comes, perhaps my father may 
come back from Athens.” 

So for many a year more the days went by, and the boy, 
Theseus, grew up brave, truthful, and strong. None who looked 
upon him grudged him his beauty, for his gentleness left no room 
for envy, and his mother listened with a proud and glad heart to 
the words with which the people of the land told of his kindly 
deeds. At length the days of his youth were ended, but Aigeus 
came not back, and Theseus went to Aithra, and said, “ The 
time is come, my mother; I must see this day whether I am 
strong enough to lift the stone.” And Aithra answered, gently, 
“Be it as thou wilt, and as the undying gods will it, my son.” 
Then he went up to the rock, and nerved himself for a mighty 
effort, and the stone yielded slowly to his strength, and the sword 
and sandals lay before him. Presently he stood before Aithra, 
and to her it seemed that the face of Theseus was as the face of 
one of the bright heroes who dwell in the halls of Zeus. A 
flush of glorious beauty lit up his countenance, as she girt the 
sword to his side and said, “ The gods prosper thee, my son, 
and they will prosper thee, if thou livest in time to come as thou 
hast lived in the days that are gone.” 

So Theseus bade his mother farewell, there on the white 
sea-shore, where long ago he had asked her first to tell him of 
his name and kindred. Sadly, yet with a good hope, he set out 
on his journey. The blue sea lay before him, and the white sails 
of ships glistened as they danced on the heaving waters. But 
Theseus had vowed a vow that he would do battle with the evil¬ 
doers who filled the land with blood, and for terror of whom the 
travelers walked in by-ways. So at Epidauros he fought with 


39 


6 io 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


the cruel Periphetes, and smote him with his own club, and at 
the Megarian isthmus he seized the robber, Sinis, and tore him 
to pieces between the trunks of pines, even as he had been wont 
to do with the wayfarers who fell into his hands. Then, in the 
thickets of Krommyon, he slew the huge sow that ravaged the 
fair corn-fields, and on the borderland he fought a sore fight with 
Skiron, who plundered all who came in his path, and, making 
them wash his feet, hurled them, as they stooped, down the cliffs 
which hung over the surging sea. Even so did Theseus to him, 
and journeying on to the banks of Kephisos, stretched the robber, 
Prokroustes, on the bed on which he had twisted and tortured 
the limbs of his victims till they died. 

Thus, amid the joyous shoutings' of the people whom he had 
set free, Theseus entered into the city of his fathers, and the 
rumor of him was brought to Aigeus, the King. Then the 
memory of the days that were gone came back to Aigeus, and 
his heart smote him as he thought within himself that this must 
be the child of Aithra, whom he had left mourning on the shore 
of Troizen. But soon there was a strife in the city, for among 
the mightiest of the people were many who mocked at Theseus, 
and said, u Who is this stranger that men should exalt him thus, 
as though he came of the race of heroes? Let him show that 
he is the child of Aigeus, if he would win the heritage which lie 
claims.” So was Theseus brought before the King, and a blush 
of shame passed over the old man’s face when he saw the sword 
and sandals which he had left beneath the great stone, near the 
Troizenian shore. Few words only he spake of welcome, and 
none ot love or kindness for his child or for the wife who still 
yearned for the love of the former days. Then, at his father’s 
bidding, Theseus made ready to go forth once again on his path 
ot toil, and he chafed not against the hard lot which had fallen 
to his portion. Only he said, “ The love of a father would 
sweeten my labor, but my mother’s love is with me still, and the 
battle is for right and for law.” 


THESEUS. 


6 II 

So in after-times the minstrels sang of the glorious deeds of 
Theseus the brave and fair. They told how at last at the bid¬ 
ding of his father he went forth from the gates of Athens and 
smote the bull which ravaged the broad plains of Marathon, and 
how in the secret maze of the labyrinth he smote the Minotauros. 
They sang of his exploits in the day when the Amazons did bat¬ 
tle with the men of Athens—how he went with Meleagros and 
his chieftains to the chase of the boar in Kalydon—how with the 
heroes in the ship Argo he brought back the golden fleece from 
Kolchis. They told how at last he went down with Peirithoos, 
his comrade, into the gloomy kingdom of Hades and seized on 
the daughter of Demeter, to bring her to the land of living men. 
They sang of the fierce wrath of Hades when his lightnings 
burst forth and smote Peirithoos—of the dark prison-house 
where Theseus lay while many a rolling year went round, until 
at last the mighty Flerakles passed the borders of the shadowy 
land and set the captive free. 

And so it was that, when the heroes had passed to the home 
of Zeus and the banquet of the gods, the glory of Theseus was 
as the glory of the brave son of Alkmene who toiled for the 
false Eurystheus; and ever in the days of feasting, the minstrels 
linked together the names of Herakles and Theseus. 


ARIADNE. 

The soft western breeze was bearing a ship from the Athe¬ 
nian land to the fair haven of Gnossos, and the waters played 
merrily round the ship as it sped along the paths of the sea. But 
on board there were mournful hearts and weeping eyes, for the 
youths and maidens which that ship was bearing to Crete were 
to be the prey of the savage Minotauros. As they came near 






612 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


the harbor gates, they saw the people of King Minos crowded 
on the shore, and they wept aloud because they should no more 
look on the earth and on the sun as he journeyed through the 
heaven. 

In that throng stood Ariadne, the daughter of the King, and 
as she gazed on the youths and maidens who came out of the 
tribute ship, there passed before her one taller and fairer than all, 
and she saw that his eye alone was bright and his step firm, as 
he moved from the shore to go to the house of Minos. Presently 
they all stood before the King, and he saw that one alone gazed 
steadfastly upon him, while the eyes of the rest were dim with 
many tears. Then he said, “What is thy name?” The young 
man answered, u I am Theseus, the son of King Aigeus, and I 
have come as one of the tribute children, but I part not with my 
life till I have battled for it with all my strength. Wherefore 
send me first, I pray thee, that I may fight with Minotauros; for 
if I be the conqueror, then shall all these go back with me in 
peace to our own land.” Then Minos said, “ Thou shalt indeed 
go first to meet Minotauros; but think not to conquer him in the 
fight, for the flame from his mouth will scorch thee, and no 
mortal man may withstand his strength.” And Theseus an¬ 
swered, “It is for man to do what best he may; the gods know 
for whom remains the victory.” 

But the gentle heart of Ariadne was moved with love and 
pity as she looked on his fair face and his bright and fearless 
eye, and she said within herself, “ I can not kill the Minotauros 
or rob him of his strength, but I will guide Theseus so that 
he may reach the monster while sleep lies heavy upon him.” 

On the next day Theseus, the Athenian, was to meet the 
dreadful Minotauros, who dwelt in the labyrinth of Gnossos. 
Far within its thousand twisted alleys was his den, where he 

4 

waited for his prey, as they were brought each along the wind¬ 
ing paths. But Ariadne talked in secret with Theseus in the 


ARIADNE. 613 

still evening time, and she gave him a clue of thread, so that 
he might know how to come back out of the mazes of the 
labyrinth after he had slain the Minotauros; and when the 
moon looked down from heaven, she led him to a hidden gate, 
and bade him go forth boldly, for he should come to the mon¬ 
ster’s den while sleep lay heavy on his eyes. So when the 
morning came, the Minotauros lay lifeless on the ground, and 
there was joy and gladness in the great city of Gnossos, and 
Minos himself rejoiced that the youths and maidens might go 
back with Theseus in peace to Athens. 

So once again they went into the ship, and the breeze blew 
softly to carry them to the homes which they had not thought to 
see again. But Theseus talked with Ariadne, in the house of 
Minos, and the maiden wept as though some great grief lay 
heavy upon her, and Theseus twined his arm gently round her, 
and said, “ Fairest of maidens, thy aid hath saved me from 
death, but I care not now to live if I may not be with thee. 
Come with me, and I will lead thee to the happier land, where 
my father, Aigeus, is King. Come with me, that my people 
may see and love the maiden who rescued the tribute children 
from the savage Minotauros.” 

Then Ariadne went with him joyfully, for her own love 
made her think that Theseus loved her not less dearly. So she 
wept not as she saw the towers of Gnossos growing fainter and 
fainter while the ship sped over the dancing waters, and she 
thought only of the happy days which she should spend in the 
bright Athens where Theseus should one day be King. Gaily 
the ship sped upon her way, and there was laughter and mirth 
among the youths and maidens who were going back to their 
home. And Theseus sat by the side of Ariadne, speaking the 
words of a deeper love than in truth he felt, and fancying that 
he loved the maiden even as the maiden loved him. But while 
yet he gazed on the beautiful Ariadne, the image of Aigle came 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


614 

back to his mind, and the old love was wakened again in his. 
heart. Onward sailed the ship, cleaving its way through the 
foaming waters, by the Islands of Thera and Amorgos, till the 
high cliffs of Naxos broke upon their sight. 

The sun was sinking down into the sea when they came to 
its winding shores, and the seamen moored the ship to the land, 
and came forth to rest until the morning. There they’ feasted 
gaily on the beach, and Theseus talked with Ariadne until the 
moon was high up in the sky. So they slept through the still 
hours of night, but when the sun was risen, Ariadne was alone 

upon the sea-shore. In doubt and fear, she 
roamed along the beach, but she saw no 
one, and there was no ship sailing on the 
blue sea. In many a bay and nook she 
sought him, and she cried in bitter sor- 
row, “ Ah, Theseus, Theseus, hast thou 
forsaken me?” Her feet were wounded by 
the sharp flints, her limbs were faint from 
very weariness, and her eyes were dim 
with tears. Above her rose the high cliffs 
like a wall, before her was spread the 
bright and laughing sea, and her heart sank 
{Muse of Heroic Verse.) within her, for she felt that she must die.. 
“ Ah, Theseus, 11 she cried, u have I done thee wrong? I pitied 
thee in the time of thy sorrow and saved thee from thy doom, 
and then I listened to thy fair words, and trusted them as a maid¬ 
en trusts when love is first awakened within her. Yet hast thou 
dealt me a hard requital. Thou art gone to happy Athens, and 
it may be thou thinkest already of some bright maiden who there 
has crossed thy path, and thou hast left me here to die for 
weariness and hunger. So would I not requite thee for a deed 
of love and pity. 11 

Wearied and sad of heart, she sank down on the rock, and 


















ARIADNE. 


6i 5 

her long hair streamed over her fair shoulders. Her hands were 
clasped around her knees, and the hot tears ran down her cheeks, 
and she knew not that there stood before her one fairer and 
brighter than the sons of men, until she heard a voice which 
said, “ Listen to me, daughter of Minos. I am Dionysos, the 
lord of the feast and revel. I wander with light heart and the 
sweet sounds of laughter and song over land and sea; I saw thee 
aid Theseus when he went, into the- labyrinth to slay the Mino- 
tauros. I heard his fair words when he prayed thee to leave 
thy home and go with him to Athens. I saw him this morning, 
while yet the stars twinkled in the sky, arouse his men and sail 
away in his ship to the land of Aigeus; but I sought not to stay 
him, for, Ariadne, thou must dwell with me. Thy love and 
beauty are a gift too great for Theseus; but thou shalt be the 
bride of Dionysos. Thy days shall be passed amid feasts and 
banquets, and when thy life is ended here, thou shalt go with me 
to the homes of the undying gods, and men shall see the crown 
of Ariadne in the heavens when the stars look forth at night 
from the dark sky. Nay, weep not, Ariadne, thy love for The¬ 
seus hath been but the love of a day, and I have loved thee long 
before the black-sailed ship brought him from poor and rugged 
Athens.” Then Ariadne wept no more, and in the arms of 
Dionysos she forgot the false and cruel Theseus; so that among 
the matrons who thronged round the joyous wine-god the fairest 
and the most joyous was Ariadne, the daughter of Minos. 


ARETHU^A. 

On the heights of Msenalos the hunter Alpheios saw the 
maiden Arethusa as she wandered joyously with her companions 
over the green swelling downs where the heather spread out its 





6i6 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


pink blossoms to the sky. Onward she came, the fairest of all 
the band, until she drew nigh to the spot where Alpheios stood 
marveling at the brightness ot her beauty. r Ihen, as she fol¬ 
lowed the winding path on the Ijill-side, she saw his eye resting 
upon her, and her heart was filled with fear, for his dark face 
was flushed by the toil of the long chase and his torn raiment 
waved wildly in the breeze. And yet more was she afraid when 
she heard the sound ot his rough voice, as he prayed her to tarry 
by his side. She lingered not to listen to his words, but with 
light- foot she sped over hill and dale and along the bank of the 
river where it leaps down the mountain cliffs and winds along 
the narrow valleys. 

Then Alpheios vowed a vow that the maiden should not 
escape him. u I will follow thee,” he said, “ over hill and dale; 
I will seek thee through rivers and seas, and where thou shalt 
rest, there will I rest, also.” Onward they sped, across the dark 
heights of Erymanthos and over the broad plains of Pisa, till the 
waters of the western sea lay spread out before them, dancing in 
the light of the midday sun. 

Then with arms outstretched, and with wearied limbs, Are- 
thusa cried aloud, and said, u O daughters of the gentle Okea- 
nos,. I have played with you on the white shore in the days of 
mirth and gladness, and now I come to your green depths. Save 
me from the hand of the wild huntsman.” So she plunged be¬ 
neath the waves of the laughing sea, and the daughters of Okea- 
nos bore her gently downwards till she came to the coral caves, 
where they sat listening to the sweet song of the waters. But 
there they suffered her not to rest, for they said, u Yet further 
must thou flee, Arethusa, for Alpheios comes behind thee.” Then 
in their arms they bore her gently beneath the depths of the sea, 
till they laid her down at last on the Ortygian shore of the 
Thrinakian land, as the sun was sinking down in the sky. 
Dimly she saw spread before her the blue hills, and she felt the 


ARETHUSA. 


617 




I 


soft breath of the summer breeze, as her eyes closed for weari¬ 
ness. Then suddenly she heard the harsh voice which scared 
her on the heights of Maenalos, and she tarried not to listen to 
his prayer. u Flee not away, Arethusa,” said the huntsman, 
Alpheios, u I mean not to harm thee; let me rest in thy love, and 
let me die for the beauty of thy fair faced’ But the maiden tied 



tiie origin of man. (From an antique Sculpture.) 


with a wild cry along the winding shore, and the light step of 
her foot left no print on the glistening sand. u Not thus shalt 
thou escape from my arms,” said the huntsman, and he stretched 
forth his hand to seize the maiden, as she drew nigh to a fountain 
whose waters flashed clear and bright in the light of the sinking 
sun. Then once again Arethusa called aloud on the daughters 































































































































































































































































































6i8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


of Okeanos, and she said, “ O friends, once more I come to your 
coral caves, for on earth there is for me no resting-place.” So 
the waters closed over the maiden, and the image ol heaven 
came down again on the bright fountain. Then a flush of anger 
passed over the face of Alpheios, as he said, u On earth thou 
hast scorned my love, O maiden, but my form shall be fairer in 
thy sight when I rest beside thee beneath the laughing waters.” 
So over the huntsman, Alpheios, flowed the Ortygian stream, and 
the love of Arethusa was given to him in the coral caves, where 
the)’ dwell with the daughters of Okeanos. 


TYRO. 

On the banks of the fairest stream in all the land of Thes¬ 
saly, the golden : haired Enipeus wooed the maiden Tyro; with 
her he wandered in gladness of heart, following the path of the 
winding river, and talking with her of his love. And Tyro 

* i 

listened to his tender words, as day by day she stole away from 
the house of her father, Salmoneus, to spend the livelong day on 
the banks of his beautiful stream. 

But Salmoneus was full of rage when he knew that Tyro 
loved Enipeus, and how she had become the mother of two fair 
babes. There was none to plead for Tyro and her helpless 
children, for her mother, Alkidike, was dead, and Salmoneus had 
taken the iron-hearted Sidero to be his wife. So he followed her 
evil counsels, and he said to Tyro, u Thy children must die, and 
thou must wed Kretheus, the son of the mighty Aiolos.” 

Then Tyro hastened in bitter sorrow to the banks of the 
stream, and her babes slept in her arms, and she stretched out 
her hands with a loud cry for aid, but Enipeus heard her not, for 
he lay in his green dwelling far down beneath the happ\ waters. 



TYRO. 


619 

So she placed the babes amidst the thick rushes which grew 
along the banks, and she said, “ O Enipeus, my father says that 
I may no more see thy face; but to thee I give our children; 
guard them from the anger of Salmoneus, and it may be that in 
time to come they will avenge my wrongs.” 

There, nestled amid the tall reeds, the children slept, till a 
herdsman saw them as he followed his cattle along the shore. 
And Tyro went back in anguish of heart to the house of Sal¬ 
moneus, but she would not have the love of Kretheus or listen to 
his woj*ds. Then Sidero whispered again her evil counsels into 
the ear of Salmoneus, and he shut up Tyro, so. that she might 
not see the light of the sun or hear the voice of man. He cut 
off the golden locks that clustered on her fair cheeks, he clothed 
her in rough raiment, and bound her in fetters which gave her 
no rest by night or by day. So in her misery she pined away, 
and her body was wasted by hunger and thirst, because she 
would not become the wife of Kretheus. Then more and more 
she thought of the days when she listened to the words of Eni¬ 
peus as she wandered with him by the side of the sounding 
waters, and she said within herself, u He heard me not when I 
called to him for help, but I gave him my children, and it may 
be that he has saved them from death; and if ever they see my 
face again, they shall know that I never loved any save Enipeus, 
who dwells beneath the stream.” 

So the years passed on, and Pelias and Neleus dwelt with 
the herdsman, and they grew up strong in body and brave of 
soul. But Enipeus had not forgotten the wrongs of Tyro, and 
he put it into the heart of her children to punish Sidero for her 
evil counsels. So Sidero died, and they brought out their 
mother from her dreary dungeon, and led her to the banks of 
the stream where she had heard the words of Enipeus in the 
former days. But her eyes were dim with long weeping, and 
the words of her children sounded strangely in her ears, and she 


t 


620 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


said, “ O my children, let me sink to sleep while I hear your 
voices, which sound to me like the voice of Enipeus.” So she 
fell asleep and died, and they laid her body in the ground by 
the river’s bank, where the waters of Enipeus made their soft 
music near her grave. 


NARKI££0£. 

On the banks of Kephisos, Echo saw and loved the beauti¬ 
ful Narkissos, but the youth cared not for the maiden of the 
hills, and his heart was cold to the words of her love, for he 
mourned for his sister, whom Hermes had taken away beyond 
the Stygian River. Day by day he sat alone by the stream- 
side, sorrowing for the bright maiden whose life was bound up 
with his own, because they had seen the light of the sun in the 
self-same day, and thither came Echo and sat down by his side, 
and sought in vain to win his love. u Look on me and see,” she 
said, “ I am fairer than the sister for whom thou dost mourn.” 
But Narkissos answered her not, for he knew that the maiden 
would ever have something to say against his words. So he sat 
silent and looked down into the stream, and there he saw his 
own face in the clear water, and it was to him as the face of his 

9 

sister for whom he pined away in sorrow, and his grief became 
less bitter as he seemed to see again her soft blue eye, and 
almost to hear the words which came from her lips. But the 
grief of Narkissos was too deep for tears, and it dried up slowly 
the fountain of his life. In vain the words of Echo fell upon his 
ears, as she prayed him to hearken to her prayer: “ Ah, Nar¬ 
kissos, thou mournest for one who can not heed thy sorrow, and 
thou carest not for her who longs to see thy face and hear thy 
voice forever.” But Narkissos saw still in the waters of Kephi¬ 
sos the face of his twin sister, and still gazing at it he fell asleep 




NARKISSOS. 


621 


and died. Then the voice of Echo was heard no more, for she 
sat in silence by his grave, and a beautiful flower came up close 
to it. Its white blossoms drooped over the banks of Kephisos 
where Narkissos had sat and looked down into its clear water, 
and the people of the land called the plant after his name. 


OFJPHEU^ AND EURYDIKE. 

In the pleasant valleys of a country which was called Thes¬ 
saly there lived a man whose name was Orpheus. Every day 
he made soft music with his golden harp, and sang beautiful 
songs such as no one had ever heard before. And whenever 
Orpheus sang, then everything came to listen to him, and the 
trees bowed down their heads to hear, and even the clouds sailed 
along more gently and brightly in the sky when he sang, and 
the stream which ran close to his feet made a softer noise, to 
show how glad his music made it. - 

Now, Orpheus had a wife who was called Eurydike, whom 
he loved very dearly. All through the winter, when the snow 
was on the hills, and all through the summer, when the sunshine 
made everything beautiful, Orpheus used to sing to her, and 
Eurydike sat on the grass by his side while the beasts came 
round to listen, and the trees bowed down their heads to hear 
him. 

But one day when Eurydike was playing with some children 
on the bank of the river, she trod upon a snake in the long grass, 
and the snake bit her. And by and by she began to be very 
sick, and Eurydike knew that she must die. So she told the 
children to go to Orpheus (for he was far away) and say how 
sorry she was to leave him, and that she loved him always very 
dearly, and then she put her head down upon the grass and fell 



62 2 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


asleep and died. Sad indeed was Orpheus when the children 
came to tell him that Eurydike was dead. He felt so wretched 
that he never played upon his golden harp, and he never opened 
his lips to sing, and the beasts. that used to listen to him won¬ 
dered why Orpheus sat all alone on the green bank where Eury¬ 
dike used to sit with him, and why it was that he never made 
any more of his beautiful music. All day long he sat there, and 
his cheeks were often wet with tears. At last he said, u I can 
not stay here any more, I must go and look for Eurydike. I 
can not bear to be without her, and perhaps the king of the land 
where people go after they are dead will let her come back and 
live with me again.” 

vSo he took his harp in his hand,-and went to look for Eury¬ 
dike in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down 
into his golden cup before the night comes on. And he went 
on and on a very long way, till at last he came to a high and 
dark gateway. It was barred across with iron bars, and it was 
bolted and locked so that nobody could open it. 

It was a wretched and gloomy place, because the sunshine 
never came there, and it was covered with clouds and mist. In 
front of this great gateway there sat a monstrous dog, with three 
heads, and six eyes, and three tongues, and everything was 
dark around, except his eyes, which shone like fire, and which 
saw every one that dared to come near. Now, when Orpheus 
came looking for Eurydike, the dog raised his three heads, and 
opened his three mouths, and gnashed his teeth at him, and 
roared terribly, but when Orpheus came nearer, the dog jumped 
up upon his feet and got himself ready to fly at him and tear 
him to pieces. Then Orpheus took down his harp and began to 
play upon its golden strings. And the dog, Kerberos (for that 
was his name), growled and snarled and showed the great white 
teeth which were in his three mouths, but he could not help hear¬ 
ing the sweet music, and he wondered why it was that he did 


ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE. 


623 


not wish any more to tear Orpheus in pieces. Very soon the 
music made him quiet and still, and at last it lulled him to sleep, 
and only his heavy breathing told that there was any dog there. 
So when Kerberos had gone to sleep, Orpheus passed by him 
and came up to the gate, and he. found it wide open, for it had 
come open of its own accord while he was singing. And he was 
glad when he saw this, for he thought that now he should see 
Eurydike. 

So he went on and on a long way, until he came to the pal¬ 
ace of the King, and there were guards placed before the door 
who tried to keep him from going in, but 
Orpheus played upon his harp, and then they 
could not help letting him go. 

So he went into the great hall, where he 
saw the King and Queen sitting on a throne, 
and as Orpheus came near, the King called 
out to him with a loud and terrible voice, 

“ Who are you, and how dare you to come 
here? Do you not know that no one is 
allowed to come here till after they are dead? 

I will have you chained and placed in a dun¬ 
geon, from which you will never be able to 
get out.” Then Orpheus said nothing, but 
he took his golden harp in his hand and began ERATE (^ S6 of the Lute). 
to sing more sweetly and gently than ever, because he knew that, 
if he liked to do so, the King could let him see Eurydike again. 
And as he sang, the face of the King began to look almost glad, 
and his anger passed away, and he began to feel how much hap¬ 
pier it must be to be gentle and loving than to be angry and cruel. 
Then the King said, u You have made me feel happy with your 
sweet music, although I have never felt happy before; and now 
tell me why you have come, because you must want something or 
other, for, otherwise, no one would come, before he was dead, to 


















624 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


this sad and gloomy land of which I am the King.” Then Orpheus 
said, “ O King, give me back my dear Eurydike, and let her go from 
this gloomy place and live with me on the bright earth again.” 
So the King said that she should go. And the King said to 
Orpheus, u I have given you what you wanted, because you sang 
so sweetly, and when you go back to the earth from this place, 
your wife whom you love shall go up after you, but remember 
that you must never look back until she has reached the earth, 
for if you do, Eurydike will be brought back here, and I shall 
not be able to give her to you again, even if you should sing 
more sweetly and gently than ever.” 

Now, Orpheus was longing to see Eurydike, and he hoped 
that the King would let him see her at once, but when the King 
said that he must not try to see her till she had reached the 
earth, he was quite content, for he said, u Shall I not wait 
patiently a little while, that Eurydike may come and live with 
me again?” So he promised the King that he would go up to 
the earth without stopping to look behind and see whether Eury¬ 
dike was coming after him. 

Then Orpheus went away from the palace of the King, and 
he passed through the dark gateway, and the dog, Kerberos, did 
not bark or growl, for he knew that Orpheus would not have 
been allowed to come back if the King had not wished it. So 
he went on and on a long way, and he became impatient, and 
longed more and more to see Eurydike. At last he came near 
to the land of living men, and he saw just a little streak of light, 
where the sun was going to rise from the sea, and presently the 
sky became brighter, and he saw everything before him so 
clearly that he could not help turning round to look at Eury¬ 
dike. But, ah! she had not yet quite reached the earth, and so 
now he lost her again. He just saw something pale and white, 
which looked like his own dear wife, and he just heard a soft 
and gentle voice, which sounded like the voice of Eurydike, and 


ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE. 


6 2 5 

then it all melted away. And still he thought that he saw that 
pale white face, and heard that sqft and gentle voice, which said, 
u O Orpheus, Orpheus, why did you look back? 

How dearly I love you, and how glad I should 
have been to live with you again, but now I 
must go back, because you have broken your 
promise to the King, and I must not even kiss 
you, and say how much I love you . 11 

And Orpheus sat down at the place where 
Eurydike was taken away from him, and he could 
not go on any further, because he felt so miserable. 

There he stayed day after day, and his cheek 
became more pale, and his body weaker and 
weaker, till at last he knew that he must die. 

And Orpheus was not sorry, for although he loved terpsichore. 
the bright earth, with all its flowers and soft grass ( i¥use °f dancing) 
and sunny streams, he knew that he could not be with Eurydike 
again until he left it. So at last he laid his head upon the earth, 
and fell asleep, and died; and then he and Eurydike saw each 
other in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down 
at night into his golden cup, and were never parted again. 



Ky\DMO£ AND EUROPA. 

In a beautiful valley in Phoenicia, a long time ago, two 
children, named Kadmos and Europa, lived with their mother, 
Telephassa. They were good and happy children, and full of 
fun and merriment. It was a very lovely place in which they 
lived, where there were all sorts of beautiful trees with fruits 
and flowers. The oranges shone * like gold among the dark 
leaves, and great bunches of dates hung from the tall palm trees 
40 









626 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


which bowed their heads as if they were asleep, and there was a 
delicious smell from the lime groves, and from many fruits and 
dowers which are never seen in America, but which blossom and 
ripen under the hot sun in Syria. 

So the years went; and one day, as they were playing about 
by the side of the river, there came into the held a beautiful white 
bull. He was quite white all over—as white as the whitest snow; 
there was not a single spot or speck on any part of his body. 
And he came and lay down on the green grass, and remained 
still and quiet. So they went nearer and nearer to the bull, and 
the bull did not move, but looked at them with his large eyes as 
if he wished to ask them to come and play with him, and at 
last they came to the place where the bull was. Then Kadmos 
thought that he would be very brave, so he put out his hand, 
and began to pat the bull on his side, and the bull only made a 
soft sound to show how glad he was. Then Europa put out her 
hand, and stroked him on the face, and laid hold of his white 
horn, and the bull rubbed his face gently against her dress. 

So by and by Kadmos thought that it would be pleasant to 
have a ride on the back of the bull, and he got on, and the bull 
rose up from the ground, and went slowly round the field with 
Kadmos on his back, and just for a minute or two Kadmos felt 
frightened, but when he saw how well and safely the bull carried 
him, he was not afraid any more. So they played with the bull 
until the sun sank down behind the hills, and then they hastened 
home. 

When they reached the house, they ran quickly to Tele- 
phassa, and said to her, “ Only think, we have been playing in 
the field with a beautiful white bull.” And Telephassa was glad 
that they had been so happy, but she would not have been so 
glad if she had known what the bull was going to do. 

Now, the next day while Europa was on its back, the bull 
began to trot quickly away, but Kadmos thought he was only 





N 


KADMOS AND EUROPA. 627 

trotting away for fun. So he ran after him, and cried out to 
make him stop. But the faster that Kadmos ran, the bull ran 
faster still, and then Kadmos saw that the bull was running away 
with his sister, Europa. Away the bull flew, all along the bank 
of the river, and up the steep hill and down into the valley on 

1 

the other side, and then he scoured along the plain beneath. 
And Kadmos watched his white body, which shone like silver as 
he dashed through the small bushes and the long waving grass 

O OOO 

and the creeping plants which were trailing about all over the 
ground, till at last the white body of the bull looked only like a 
little speck, and then Kadmos could see it no more. 

Very wretched was Kadmos when his sister was taken away 
from him in this strange way. His eyes were full of tears so 
that he could scarcely see, but still he kept on looking and look¬ 
ing in the way the bull had gone, and hoping that he would 
bring his sister back by and by. But the sun sank lower and 
lower in the sky, and then Kadmos saw him go down behind the 
hills, and he knew now that the bull would not come again, and 
then he began to weep bitterly. He hardly dared to go home 
and tell Telephassa what had happened, and yet he knew that he 
ought to tell her. So he went home slowly and sadly, and Tele¬ 
phassa saw him coming alone, and she began to be afraid that 
something had happened to Europa, and when she came up to 
him Kadmos could scarcely speak. At last he said, “ The bull 
has run away with Europa.” Then Telephassa asked him where 
he had gone, and Kadmos said tflat he did not know. But 
Telephassa said, “ Which way did he go?” and then Kadmos 
told her that the bull had run away towards the land of the 
West, where the sun goes down into his golden cup. Then 
Telephassa said that they, too, must get up early in the morning 
and go towards the land of the West, and see if they could find 
Europa again. 

That night they hardly slept at all, and their cheeks were 



628 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


pale and wet with their tears. And before the sun rose, and 
while the stars still glimmered in the pale light ol the morning, 
they got up and went on their journey to look for Europa. Far 
away they went, along the valleys and over the hills, across the 
rivers and through the woods, and they asked every one whom 
they met if they had seen a white bull with a girl upon its back. 
But no one had seen anything of the kind, and / many people 
thought that Kadmos and Telephassa were silly to ask such a 
question, for they said, “Girls do not ride on the backs ol bulls; 
you can not be telling the truth.” So they went on and on, ask¬ 
ing every one, but hearing nothing about her; and as they jour¬ 
neyed, sometimes they saw the great mountains rising up high 
into the sky, with their tops covered with snow, and shining like 
gold in the light of the setting sun; sometimes they rested on 
the bank of a great broad river, where the large white leaves 
lay floating and sleeping on the water, and where the palm trees 
waved their long branches above their heads. Sometimes they 
came to a water-fall, where the water sparkled brightly as it 
rushed over the great stones. And whenever they came to these 
beautiful places, Kadmos would say to Telephassa, “ How we 
should have enjoyed staying here if Europa were with us; but 
we do not care to stay here now, we must go on looking for her 
everywhere.” So they went on and on till they came to the sea, 
and they wondered how they could get across it, for it was a 
great deal wider than any river which they had seen. At last 
they found a place where the sea was narrow, and here a boat¬ 
man took them across in his boat, just where little Helle had 
been drowned when she fell off the back of the ram that was 
carrying her and her brother away to Kolchis. So Telephassa 
and Kadmos crossed over Hellespontos, which means the Sea of 
Helle, and they went on and on, over mountains and hills and 
rocks, and wild gloomy places, till they came to the sunny plains 
cf Thessaly. And still they asked every one about Europa, but 


KADMOS AND EUROPA. 


629 


they found no one who had seen her. And Kadmos saw that 
his mother was getting weak and thin, and that she could not 
walk now as far and as quickly as she had done when they had 
set out from home to look for his sister. So he asked her to rest 
for a little while. But Telephassa said, “We must go on, Kad¬ 
mos, for if we do, perhaps we may still find Europa.” So they 
went on, until at last Telephassa felt that she could not go any 
further. And she said to Kadmos, U I am very tired, and I do 
not think I shall be able to walk any more with you; I must lie 
down and go to sleep here, and perhaps, Kadmos, I may not 
wake again. But if I die while I am asleep, then you must go 
on by yourself and look for Europa, for I am quite sure that you 
will find her some day, although I shall not be with you. And 
when you see your sister, tell her how I longed to find her again, 
and how much I loved her always. And now, my child, I must 
go to sleep, and if I do not wake up any more, then I trust that 
we shall all see each other again one day, in a land which is 
brighter and happier than even the land in which we used to live 
before your sister was taken away from us.” 

So when she had said this, Telephassa fell asleep, just as the 
daylight was going away from the sky, and when the bright 
round moon rose up slowly from behind the dark hill. All night 
long Kadmos watched by her side, and when the morning came, 
he saw that Telephassa had died while she was asleep. Her 
face was quite still, and Kadmos knew by the happy smile which 
was on it, that she had gone to the bright land to which good 
people go when they are dead. Kadmos was very sorry to be 
parted from his mother, but he was not sorry that now she could 
not feel tired or sorrowful any more. So Kadmos placed his 
mother’s body in the ground, and very soon all kinds of flowers 
grew up upon her grave. 

But Kadmos had gone on to look for his sister, Europa, and 
presently he met a shepherd who was leading his flock of sheep. 


6 3 ° 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY 


He was very beautiful to look at. His face shone as bright al¬ 
most as the sun. He had a golden harp, and a golden bow, and 
arrows in a golden quiver, and his name was Phoebus Apollo. 
And Kadmos went up to him and said, “Have you seen my 
sister, Europa? a white bull ran away with her on his back.. 
Can you tell me where I can find her?” And Phoebus Apollo 
said, “ I have seen your sister, Europa, but I can not tell you yet 
where she is, you must go on a great way further still, till you 
come to a town which is called Delphi, under a great mountain 
named Parnassos, and there perhaps you may be able to find out 
something about her. But when you have seen her you must 
not stay there, because I wish you to build a city, and become a 
King, and be wise and strong and good. You and Europa must 
follow a beautiful cow that I shall send, till it lies down upon the 
ground to rest, and the place where the cow shall lie down shall 
be the place where I wish you to build the city.” 

So Kadmos went on and on till he came to the town of 
Delphi, which lay beneath the great mountain, called Parnassos.. 
And there he saw a beautiful temple with white marble pillars,, 
which shone brightly in the light of the early morning. And 
Kadmos went into the temple, and there he saw his dear sister, 
Europa. And Kadmos said, “ Europa, is it you, indeed? How 
glad I am to find you.” Then Europa told Kadmos how the 
bull had brought her and left her there a long time ago, and how 
sorry she had been that she could not tell Telephassa where she 
was. Then she said to Kadmos, “ How pale and thin and weak 
you look; tell me how it is you are come alone, and when shall I 
see our dear mother?” Then his eyes became full of tears, and 
Kadmos said, “We shall never see our mother again in this 
world. She has gone to the happy land where good people go 
when they are dead. She was so tired with seeking after you 
that at last she could not come any further, and she lay down and 
fell asleep, and never waked up again. But she said that when 


KADMOS AND EUROPA 


631 



I saw you I must tell you how she longed to see you, and how 
she hoped that we should all live together one day in the land to 
which she has gone before us. And now, Europa, we must not 
stay here, for I met a shepherd whose name is Phoebus Apollo, 
l ie had a golden harp and a golden bow, and his face shone like 


ancient sacrifice. {From Wall Painting of Pompeii .) 

the sun, and he told me that we must follow a beautiful cow 
which he would send, and build a city in that place where the 
cow shall lie down to rest.” 

So Europa left Delphi with her brother, Kadmos, and when 
they had gone a lictle way, the)’ saw a cow lying down on the 
grass. But when they came near, the cow got up, and began to 




















































































































































63 2 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 

walk in front of them, and then they knew that this was the 
cow which Phoebus Apollo had sent. So they followed the cow, 
and it went on and on, a long* way, and at last it lay down to 
rest on a large plain, and Kadmos knew then that this was the 
place where he must build the city. And there he built a great 
many houses, and the city was called I hebes. And Kadmos 
became the King of Thebes, and his sister, Europa, lived there 
with him. Pie was a wise and good King, and ruled his people 
justly and kindly. And by and by Kadmos and Europa both 
fell asleep and died, and then they saw their mother, Telephassa, 
in the happy land to which good people go when they are dead, 
and were never parted from her any more. 


BELLEFJOPHOJN. 

The minstrels sang of the beauty and the great deeds of 
Bellerophon through all the lands of Argos. His arm was strong 
in the battle, his feet were swift in the chase, and his heart was 
pure as the pure heart of Artemis and Athene. None that were 
poor and weak and wretched feared the might of Bellerophon. 
To them the sight of his beautiful form brought only joy and 
gladness, but the proud and boastful, the slanderer and the rob¬ 
ber, dreaded the glance of his keen eye. But the hand of Zeus 
lay heavy upon Bellerophon. die dwelt in the halls of King 
Prcetos, and served him even as Iderakles served the mean and 
crafty Eurystheus. For many long years Bellerophon knew that 
he must obey the bidding of a man weaker than himself, but his 
soul failed him not, and he went forth to his long toil with a 
heart strong as the sun when he rises in his strength, and pure as 
the heart of a little child. 

But Anteia, the wife of King Prcetos, saw day by day the 



BELLEROPHON. 


6 33 


beauty of Bellerophon, and she would not turn away her eye 
from his fair face. Every day he seemed to her to be more and 
more like to the bright heroes who feast with the gods in the 
halls of high Olympos, and her heart became filled with love, 
and she sought to beguile Bellerophon by her enticing words. 
But he hearkened not to her evil prayer, and heeded not her tears 
and sighs; so her love was turned to wrath, and she vowed a 
vow that Bellerophon should suffer a sore vengeance, because he 
would not hear her prayer. Then, in her rage., she went to King 
Prcetos, and said, u Bellerophon, thy slave, hath sought to do me 
wrong, and to lead me astray by his crafty words. Long time 
he strove with me to win my love, but I would not hearken to 
him. Therefore, let thine hand lie more heavy upon him than in 
time past, for the evil that he hath done, and slay him before my 
face . 11 Then was Prcetos also full of anger, but he feared to 
slay Bellerophon, lest he should bring on himself the wrath of 
Zeus, his father. So he took a tablet of wood, and on it he drew 
grievous signs of toil and war, of battles and death, and gave it 
to Bellerophon to carry to the far-off Lykian land, where the 
father of Anteia was King, and as he bade him farewell, he said, 
“ Show this tablet to the King of Lykia, and he will recompense 
thee for all thy good deeds which thou hast done for me, and for. 
the people of Argos . 11 

So Bellerophon went forth on his long wandering, and 
dreamed not of the evil that was to befall him by the wicked 
craft of Anteia. On and on he journeyed towards the rising of 
the sun, till he came to the county of the Lykians. Then he 
went to the house of the King, who welcomed him with rich 
banquets, and feasted him for nine days, and on the tenth day he 
sought to know wherefore Bellerophon had come to the Lykian 
land. Then Bellerophon took the tablet of Prcetos and gave it 
to the King, who saw on it grievous signs of toil and woe, ol 
battles and death. Presently the King spake, and said, “ There 


6 34 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


are great things whieh remain for thee to do, Bellerophon, but 
when thy toil is over, high honor awaits thee here and in the 
homes of the bright heroes .’ 1 So the King sent him forth to 
slay the terrible Chimsera, which had the face of a lion with a 
goat’s body and a dragon’s tail. Then Bellerophon journeyed 
yet further towards the rising of the sun, till he came to the pas¬ 
tures where the winged horse, Pegasos, the child of Gorgo, with 
the snaky hair, was feeding, and he knew that if he could tame 
the steed he should then be able to conquer the fierce Chimsera. 

Lonsf time he sought to seize on Pegasos, but the horse 
snorted wildly and tore up the ground in his fury, till Bellero¬ 
phon sank wearied on the earth and a deep sleep weighed down 
his eyelids. Then, as he slept, Pallas Athene came and stood 
by his side, and cheered him with her brave words, and gave 
him a philtre which should tame the wild Pegasos. When Belle¬ 
rophon awoke, the philtre was in his hand, and he knew now 
that he should accomplish the task which the Lykian King had 
given him to do. So, by the help of Athene, he mounted the 
winged Pegasos and smote the Chimaera, and struck off his head, 
and with it he went back, and told the King of all that had be¬ 
fallen him. But the King was filled with rage, for he thought 
not to see the face of Bellerophon again, and he charged him to 
go forth and do battle with the mighty Solymi and the fair Ama¬ 
zons. Then Bellerophon went forth again, for he dreamed not 
of guile and falsehood, and he dreaded neither man nor beast 
that might meet him in open battle. Long time he fought with 
the Solymi and the Amazons, until all his enemies shrank from 
the stroke of his mighty arm, and sought for mercy. Glad of 
heart, Bellerophon departed to carry his spoils to the home of 
the Lykian King, but as he drew nigh to it and was passing 
through a narrow dell where the thick brushwood covered the 
ground, fifty of the mightiest Lykians rushed upon him with 
fierce shoutings, and sought to slay him. At the first, Bellero- 


BELLEROPHON, 


6 35 


phon withheld his hands, and said, “ Lykian friends, I have 
feasted in the halls of your King, and eaten of his bread; surely 
ye are not come hither to slay me.” But they shouted the more 
fiercely, and they hurled spears at Bellerophon; so he stretched 
forth his hand in the greatness of his strength, and did battle for 
his life until all the Lykians lay dead before him. 

Weary in body and sad of heart, Bellerophon entered the 
hall where the King was feasting with his chieftains. And the 
King knew that Bellerophon could not have come thither unless 
he had first slain all the warriors whom he had sent forth to lie 
in wait for him. But he dissembled his wrath, and said, u Wel¬ 
come, Bellerophon, bravest and mightiest of the sons of men. 
Thy toils are done, and the time of rest is come for thee. Thou 
shalt wed my daughter, and share with me my kingly power.” 

Then the minstrels praised the deeds of Bellerophon, and 
there was feasting for many days when he wedded the daughter 
of the King. But not yet was his doom accomplished; and 
once again the dark cloud gathered around him, laden with woe 
and suffering. Far away from his Lykian home, the wrath of 
Zeus drove him to the western land where the sun goes down 
into the sea. His heart was brave and guileless still, as in the 
days of his early youth, but the strength of his arm was weak¬ 
ened, and the light of his eye was now dim. Sometimes the 
might was given back to his limbs, and his face shone with its 
ancient beauty; and then, again, he wandered on in sadness and 
sorrow, as a man wanders in a strange path through the dark 
hours of night, when the moon is down. And so it was that 
when Bellerophon reached the western sea, he fell asleep and 
died, and the last sight which he saw before his eyes were 
closed was the red glare of the dying sun, as he broke through 
the barred clouds and plunged beneath the sea. 


636 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


y\LTHy\IA y^JSD THE BUF^INQ BF(AND. 

There was feasting in the halls oi Oineus, the chieftain of 
Kalydon, in the ZEtolian land, and all prayed for wealth and 
glory for the chief, and for his wife, Althaia, and for the child 
who had on that day been born to them. And Oineus besought 
the Kin of of sfods and men with rich offerings, that his son, 
Meleagros, might win a name greater than his own, that he 
might grow up stout of heart and strong of arm, and that in time 
to come men might say, u Meleagros wrought mighty works and 
did good deeds to the people of the land.” 

But the mighty Moirai, whose word even Zeus himself may 
not turn aside, had fixed the doom of Meleagros. The child lay 
sleeping in his mother’s arms, and Althaia prayed that her son 
might grow up brave and gentle, and be to her a comforter in 
the time of age and the hour of death. Suddenly, as she yet 
spake, the Moirai stood before her. There was no love or pity in 
their cold, grey eyes, and they looked down with stern, unchang¬ 
ing faces on the mother and her child, and one of them said, 
u The brand burns on the hearth, when it is burnt wholty, thy 
child shall die.” But love is swifter than thought, and the 
mother snatched the burning brand from the fire, and quenched 
its flame in water, and she placed it in a secret place where no 
hand but her own might reach it. 

So the child grew, brave of heart and sturdy of limb, and 
ever ready to hunt the wild beasts or to go against the cities of 
men. Many great deeds he did in the far-off Kolchian land, 
when the chieftains sailed with Athamas and Ino to take away 
the golden fleece from King Aietes. But there were greater 
things for him to do when he came again to Kalydon, for his 
father, Oineus, had roused the wrath of the mighty Artemis. 
There was rich banqueting in his great hall when his harvest was 


ALTHAIA AND THE BURNING BRAND. 


6 37 


ingathered, and'Zeus and all the other gods feasted on the fat 
burnt-offerings, but no gift was set apart for the virgin child of 
Leto. Soon she requited the wrong to Oineus, and a savage 
boar was seen in the land, which tore up the fruit-trees, and de¬ 
stroyed the seed in the ground, and trampled on the green corn 
as it came Up. None dared to approach it, for its mighty tusks 
tore everything that crossed its path. Long time the chieftains 
took counsel what they should do, until Meleagros said, u I will 
go forth; who will follow me?” Then from Kalydon and from 
the cities and lands round about came mighty chieftains and 
brave youths, even as they had hastened to the ship, Argo, when 
they sought to win the golden fleece from Kolchis. With them 
came the Kouretes, who live in Pleuron, and among them were 
seen Kastor and Rolyjdeukes, the twin brethren, and Theseus, 
with his comrade, Peirithoos, and Iason and Admetos. But 
more beautiful than all was Atalante, the daughter of Schoineus, 
a stranger from the Arcadian land. Much the chieftains sought 
to keep her from the chase, for the maiden’s arm was strong, and 
her feet swift, and her aim sure, and they liked not that she 
should come from a far country to share their glory or take away 
their name. But Meleagros loved the fair and brave maiden, 
and said, “ If she go not to the chase, neither will I go with 
you.” So they suffered her, and the chase began. At first the 
boar fled, trampling down those whom he chanced to meet, and 
rending them with his tusks, but at last he stood fiercely at bay, 
and fought furiously, and many of the hunters fell, until at length 
the spear of Atalante pierced his side, and - then Meleagros slew 
him. 

Then was there great gladness as they dragged the body of 
the boar to Kalydon, and made ready to divide the spoil. But 
the ano-er of Artemis was not yet soothed, and she roused a 

,o * 

strife between the men of Pleuron and the men of Kalydon. 
For Meleagros sought to have the head, and the Kouretes ol 


' 6 3 8 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


Pleuron cared not to take the hide only for their portion. So 
the strife grew hot between them, until Meleagros slew the 
chieftain of the Kouretes, who was the brother of Althaia, his 
mother. Then he seized the head of the boar, and bare it to 
Atalante, and said, “ Take, maiden, the spoils are rightly thine. 
From thy spear came the first wound which smote* down the 
boar; and well hast thou earned the prize for the fleetness of thy 
foot and the sureness of thy aim.” 

So Atalante took the spoils and carried them to her home 
in the Arcadian land, but the men of Pleuron were full of wrath, 
and they made war on the men of Kalydon. Many times they 
fought, but in every battle the strong arm of Meleagros and his 
•.stout heart won the victory for the men of his own city, and the 
Kouretes began to grow faint in spirit, sp that they quailed be¬ 
fore the spear and sword of Meleagros. But presently Melea- 
gros was seen no more with his p eople, and his voice was no 
longer heard cheering them on to the battle. No more would 
be take lance in hand or lift up his shield for the strife, but he 
tarried in his own house by the side of the beautiful Kleopatra, 
whom Idas, her father, gave to him to be his wife. 

For the heart of his mother was filled with grief and rage 
when she heard the story of the deadly strife, and that Melea¬ 
gros, her child, had slain her brother. In heavy wrath and sor¬ 
row she sat down upon the earth, and she cast the dust from the 
ground into the air, and with wild words called on blades, 
the unseen King, and Persephone, who shares his dark throne: 

Lord of the lands beneath the earth, stretch forth thy hand 
against Meleagros, my child. Pie has quenched the love of a 
mother in my brother’s blood, and I will that he should die.” 
And even as she prayed, the awful Erinys, who wanders 
through the air, heard her words and swore to accomplish the 
doom. But Meleagros was yet more wrathful when he knew 
that his mother had laid her curse upon him, and therefore he 


ALTHAIA AND THE BURNING BRAND. 

would not go forth out of his chamber to the aid of his people 
in the war. 

So the Kouretes grew more and more mighty, and their 
warriors came up against the City of Kalydon, and would no 
longer suffer the people to come without 
the walls. And everywhere there was 
faintness of heart and grief of spirit, for 
the enemy had wasted their fields and 
slain the bravest of the men, and little 
store remained to them of food. Day by 
Oineus besought his son, and the great 
men of the city fell at the knees of Melea- 
gros and prayed him to come out to their 
help, but he would not hearken. Still he 
tarried in his chamber with his wife, Kleo¬ 
patra, by his side, and heeded not the hun¬ 
ger and the wailings of the people. Fiercer 
and fiercer waxed the roar of war; the 
loosened stones rolled from the tottering 
wall, and the battered gates were scarce able to keep out the 
enemy. Then Kleopatra fell at her husband’s knee, and she 
took him by the hand, and called him gently by his name, and 
said, u O Meleagros, if thou wilt think of thy wrath, think also 
of the evils which war brings with it—how when a city is taken, 
the men are slain, and the mother with her child, the old and 
the young arq borne away into slavery. If the men of Pleuron 
win the day, thy mother may repent her of the curse which she 
has laid upon thee; but thou wilt see thy children slain and me a 
slave.” 

Then Meleagros started from his couch and seized his spear 
and shield. Fie spake no word, but hastened to the walls, and 
soon the Kouretes fell back before the spear which never missed 
its mark. Then he gathered the warriors of his city, and bade 




MELPOMENE. 

(Muse of Tragedy .) 








































/ 


640 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 

them open the gates, and went forth against the enemy. Long 
and dreadful was the battle, but at length the Kouretes turned 
and fled, and the danger passed away from the men of Kalydon. 

But the Moirai still remembered the doom of the burning 
brand, and the unpitying Erinys had not forgotten the curse of 
Althaia, and they moved the men of Kalydon to withhold the 
prize of his good deeds from the chieftain, Meleagros. “ He 
came not forth,” they said, u save at the prayer of his wife. He 
hearkened not when we besought him, he heeded not our misery 
and tears; why should we give him that which he did not win 
from any love for us?” So his people were angry with Melea¬ 
gros, and his spirit grew yet more bitter within him. Once 
again he lay within his chamber, and his spear and shield hung 
idle on the wall, and it pleased him more to listen the whole day 
long to the soft words of Kleopatra than to be doing brave and 
good deeds for the people of his land. 

Then the heart of his mother, Althaia, was more and more 
turned away from him, so that she said in bitterness of spirit, 
“ What good shall his life now do to me?” and she brought 
forth the half-burnt brand from its secret place, and cast it on the 
hearth. Suddenly it burst into a flame, and suddenly the strength 
of Meleagros began to fail as he lay in the arms of Kleopatra. 

My life is wasting within me,” he said; “clasp me closer in 
thine arms; let others lay a curse upon me, so only I die rejoicing 
in thy love.” Weaker and weaker .grew his failing breath, but 
still he looked with loving eyes on the face of Kleopatra, and his 
spirit went forth with a sigh of gladness, as the last spark of the 
brand flickered out upon the hearth. 

Then was there grief and sorrow in the house of Oineus 
and through all the City of Kalydon, but they wept and mourned 
in vain. They thought now of his good deeds, his wise coun¬ 
sels, and his mighty arm, but in vain they bewailed the death of 
their chieftain in the glory of his age. Yet deeper and more 


ALTHAIA AND THE BURNING BRAND. 64I 

bitter was the sorrow of Althaia, for the love of a mother came 
back to her heart when the Moirai had accomplished the doom 
of her child. And yet more bitterly sorrowed his wife, Kleo¬ 
patra, and yearned for the love which had been torn away from 
her. There was no more joy ..within the halls of Oineus, for the 
Erinys had done their task well. Soon Althaia followed her child 
to the unknown land, and Kleopatra went forth with joy to 
meet Meleagros in the dark kingdom of Hades and Persephone. 


IAJVI0J3. 

On the banks of Alpheios, Evadne watched over her new¬ 
born babe, till she fled away because she feared the wrath of 
Aipytos, who ruled in Phaisana. The tears streamed down her 
cheeks as she prayed to Phcebus Apollo, who dwells at Delphi, 
and said, u Lord of the bright day, look on thy child, and guard 
him when he lies forsaken, for I may no longer tarry near him.” 

So Evadne fled away, and Phcebus sent two serpents, who 
fed the babe with honey as he lay amid the flowers which clus¬ 
tered round him. And ever more and more through all the land 
went forth the, saying of Phcebus, that the child of Evadne 
should grow up mighty in wisdom and in the power of telling 
the things that should happen in the time to come. Then 
Aipytos asked of all who dwelt in his house to tell him where 
he might find the son of Evadne. But they, knew not where the 
child lay, for the serpents had hidden him far away in the 
thicket, where the wild flowers sheltered him from wind and 
heat. Long time they searched amid the tall reeds which 
clothe the banks of Alpheios, until at last they found the babe 
lying in a bed of violets. So Aipytos took the child and called 
his name Iamos, and he grew up brave and wise of heart, pon- 

4 1 



642 


RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY. 


dering well the signs of coming grief and joy, and the tokens of 
hidden things which he saw in the heaven above him or the wide 
earth beneath. He spake but little to the youths and maidens 
who dwelt in the house of Aipytos, but he wandered on the bare 
hills or by the stream side, musing on many things. And so it 
came to pass that one night, when the stars glimmered softly in 

the sky, Iamos plunged beneath the 
waters of Alpheios, and prayed to 
Phoebus who dwells at Delphi, and 
to Poseidon, the lord of the broad 
sea; and he besought them to open 
his eyes, that he might reveal to 
the sons of men the things which 
of themselves they could not see. 
Then they led him away to the 
high rocks which look down on the 
plain of Pisa, and they said, u Look 
yonder, child of Evadne, where the 
white stream of Alpheios winds its way gently to the sea. Here, 
in the days which are to come, Herakles, the son of the mighty 
Zeus, shall gather together the sons of Helen, and give them in 
the solemn games the mightiest of all bonds; hither shall they 
come to know the will of Zeus, and here shall it be thy work 
and the work of thy children to read to them the signs which of 
themselves they can not understand.” Then Phoebus Apollo 
touched his ears, and straightway the voices of the birds spake 
to him clearly of the^ things which were to come and he heard 
their words as a man listens to the speech of his friend. So' 
Iamos prospered exceedingly, for the men of all the Argive land 
sought aid from his wisdom, and laid rich gifts at his feet. And 
he taught his children after him to speak the truth and to deal 
justly, so that none envied their great .wealth, and all men spake 
well of the wise children of Iamos. 



Clio (Muse of History). 












The artistic instinct is one of the earliest developed in man; 
the love ol representation is evolved at the earliest period; we 
see it in the child, we see it in the savage, we find traces of it 
among primitive men. The child in his earliest years loves to 
trace the forms of objects familiar to his eyes. The savage takes 
a pleasure in depicting and rudely giving shape to objects which 
constantly meet his view. The artistic instinct is of all ages and 
of all climes; it springs up naturally in all countries, and takes its 
origin alike everywhere in the imitative faculty of man. Evi¬ 
dences of this instinct at the earliest period have been discovered 
among the relics of primitive men; rough sketches on slate and 
on stone of the mammoth, the deer, and of man, have been 
found in the caves of France; the American savage traces rude 
hunting scenes, or the forms of animals on the covering of his 
tents, and on his buffalo robes; the savage Australian covers the 
side of caverns, and the faces of rocks with coarse drawings of 
animals. We thus find an independent evolution of the art of 
design, and distinct and separate cycles of its development 
through the stages of rise, progress, maturity, decline and decay, 
in many countries the most remote and unconnected with one 
another. The earliest mode of representing men, animals and 
objects was in outline and in profile. It is evidently the most 
primitive style, and characteristic of the commencement of the 
art, as the first attempts made by children and uncivilized people 

6 43 







644 


FINE ARTS. 


are solely confined to it; the most inexperienced perceive the ob¬ 
ject intended to be represented, and no efiort is required to com¬ 
prehend it. Outline figures were thus in all countries the earliest 
style of painting, and we find this mode practiced at a remote 
period in Egypt and in Greece. In Egypt we meet paintings in 
this earliest stage of the art of design in the tombs of Beni 
Hassan, dating from over 2000 B. C. They are illustrative ot 
the manners and customs of that age. Tradition tells us that 
the origin of the art of design in Greece was in tracing in out¬ 
line and in profile the shadow of a human head on the wall and 
afterwards filling it in so as to present the appearance of a kind 
of silhouette. The Greek painted vases of the earliest epoch 
exhibit examples of this style. From this humble beginning the 
art of design in Greece rose in gradually successive stages, until 
it reached its highest. degree of perfection under the hands of 
Zeuxis and Apelles. 

The interest that attaches to Egyptian art is from its great 
antiquity. We see it in the first attempts to represent what in 
after times, and in some other countries, gradually arrived, under 
better auspices, at the greatest perfection; and we even trace in it 
the germ of much that was improved upon by those who had a 
higher appreciation of, and feeling for, the beautiful. For, both 
in ornamental art, as well as in architecture, Egypt exercised in 
early times considerable influence over other people less ad¬ 
vanced than itself, or only just emerging from barbarism; and the 
various conventional devices, the lotus flowers, the sphinxes, and 
other fabulous animals, as well as the early Medusa’s head, with 
a protruding tongue, of the oldest Greek pottery and sculptures, 
and the ibex, leopard, and above all the (Nile) u goose and sun,” 
on the vases, show them to be connected with, and frequently 
directly borrowed from, Egyptian fancy. It was, as it still is, the 
custom of people to borrow from those who have attained to a 
greater degree of refinement and civilization than themselves; the 









































































































































































































































646 


FINE ARTS. 


nation most advanced in art led the taste, and though some had 
sufficient invention to alter what they adopted, and to render it 
their own, the original idea may still be traced whenever it has 
been derived from a foreign source. Egypt was long the domi¬ 
nant nation, and the intercourse established at a very remote 
period with other countries, through commerce of war, carried 
abroad the taste of this the most advanced people of the time; 
and so general seems to have been the fashion of their orna- 
ments, that even the Nineveh marbles present the winged globe, 
and other well-known Egyptian emblems, as established elements 
of Assyrian decorative art. 

While Greece was still in its infancy, Egypt had long been 
the leading nation of the world; she was noted for her magnifi¬ 
cence, her wealth, and power, and all acknowledged her pre¬ 
eminence in wisdom and civilization. It is not, therefore, sur¬ 
prising that the Greeks should have admitted into their early art 
some of the forms then most in vogue, and though the wonderful 
taste of that gifted people speedily raised them to a point of 
excellence never attained by the Egyptians or any others, the 
rise and first germs of art and architecture must be sought in the 
Valley of the Nile. In the oldest monuments of Greece, the 
sloping or pyramidal line constantly predominates; the columns 
in the oldest Greek order are almost purely Egyptian, in the pro¬ 
portions of the shaft, and in the form of its shallow flutes without 
fillets; and it is a remarkable fact that the oldest Egyptian 
columns are those which bear the closest resemblance to the 
Greek Doric. 

Though great variety was permitted in objects of luxury, 
as furniture, vases, and other things depending on caprice, the 
Egyptians were forbidden to introduce any material innovations 
into the human figure, such as would alter its general character, 
and all subjects connected with religion retained to the last the 
same conventional type. A god in the latest temple was of the 


EGYPTIAN SCULPTURE. 


647 

same form as when represented on monuments of the earliest 
date; and King Menes would have recognized Amun, or Osiris, 
in a Ptolemaic or a Roman sanctuary. In sacred subjects the 
law was inflexible, and religion, which has frequently done so 
much for the development and direction of taste in sculpture, had 
the effect of fettering the genius of Egyptian artists. No im¬ 
provements, resulting from experience and observation, were 
admitted in the mode of drawing the human figure; to copy 
nature was not allowed; it was therefore useless to study it, and 
no attempt was made to give the proper action to the limbs. 
Certain rules, certain models, had been established by the priest¬ 
hood, and the faulty conceptions of ignorant times were copied 
and perpetuated by every successive artist. For, as Plato and 
Synesius say, the Egyptian sculptors were not suffered to at¬ 
tempt anything contrary to the regulations .laid down regarding 
the figures of the gods; they were forbidden to introduce any 
change, or to invent new subjects and habits, and thus the art, 
and the rules which bound it, always remained the same. 

Egyptian bas-relief appears to have been, in its origin, a 
mere copy of painting, its predecessor. The first attempt to 
represent the figures of gods, sacred emblems, and other subjects, 
consisted in drawing or painting simple outlines of them on a 
flat surface, the details being afterwards put in with color; but 
in process of time these forms were traced on stone with a tool, 
and the intermediate space between the various figures being after¬ 
wards cut away, the once level surface assumed the appearance of 
a bas-relief. It was, in fact, a pictorial representation on stone, 
which is evidently the character of all the bas-reliefs on Egyp¬ 
tian monuments, and which readily accounts for the imperfect 
arrangement of their figures. 

Deficient in conception, and above all in a proper knowledge 
of grouping, they were unable to form those combinations which 
give true expression; every picture was made up of isolated 


6 4 S 


FINE ARTS. 


parts, put together according to some general notions, but with¬ 
out harmony, or preconceived effect. The human face, the 
whole body, and everything they introduced, were composed in 
the same manner, of separate members placed together one by 
one according to their relative situations: the eye, the nose, and 
other features composed a face, but the expression of feelings 
and passions was entirely wanting; and the countenance of the 
King, whether charging an enemy’s phalanx in the heat of battle, 
or peaceably offering incense in a sombre temple, presented the 
same outline and the same inanimate look. The peculiarity of 
the front view of an eye, introduced in a profile, is thus ac¬ 
counted for: it was the ordinary representation of that feature 
added to a profile, and no allowance was made for any change in 
the position of the head. 

It was the same with drapery: the figure was first drawn, 
and the drapery then added, not as part of the whole, but as an 
accessory; they had no general conception, no previous idea of 
the effect required to distinguish the warrior or the priest, be¬ 
yond the impressions received from costume, or from the subject 
of which they formed a part, and the same figure was dressed 
according to the character it was intended to perform. Every 
portion of a picture was conceived by itself, and inserted as it 
was wanted to complete the scene; and when the walls of the 
building, where a subject was to be drawn, had been accurately 
ruled with squares, the figures were introduced, and fitted to this 
mechanical arrangement. The members were appended to the 
body, and these squares regulated their form and distribution, in. 
whatever posture they might be placed. 

As long as this conventional system continued, no great 
change could take place, beyond a slight variation in the propor¬ 
tions, which at one period became more elongated, particularly 
in the reign of the second Remeses; but still the general form 
and character of the figures continued the same, which led to the 


EGYPTIAN SCULPTURE. 


649 

remark of Plato, “ that the pictures and statues made ten thou¬ 
sand years ago, are in no one particular better or worse than 
what they now make.” And taken in this limited sense—that 
no nearer approach to the beau ideal of the human figure, or its 
real character, was made at one period than another—his remark 
is true, since they were always bound by the same regulations,, 
which prohibited any change in these matters, even to the latest 
times, as is evident from the sculptures of the monuments, 
erected after Egypt had long been a Roman province. All was 
still Egyptian, though of bad style; and if they then attempted 
to finish the details with more precision, it was only substituting 
ornament for simplicity; and the endeavor to bring the propor¬ 
tions of the human figure nearer to nature, with the retention of 
its conventional type, only made its deformity greater, and showed 
how incompatible the Egyptian was with any other style. 

In the composition of modern paintings three objects are 
required: one main action, one point of view, and one instant of 
time, and the proportions and harmony of the parts are regu¬ 
lated by perspective, but in Egyptian sculpture these essentials 
were disregarded; every thing was sacrificed to the principal 
figure; its colossal dimensions pointed it out as a center to 
which all the rest was a mere accessory, and, if any other was 
made equally conspicuous, or of equal size, it was still in a sub¬ 
ordinate station, and only intended to illustrate the scene con¬ 
nected with the hero of the piece. 

In the paintings of the tombs greater license was allowed 
in the representation of subjects relating to private life, the trades, 
or the manners and occupations of the people, and some indica¬ 
tion of perspective in the position of the figures may occasionally 
be observed; but the attempt was imperfect, and, probably, to an 
Egyptian eye, unpleasing, for such is the force of habit, that even 
where nature is copied, a conventional style is sometimes pre¬ 
ferred to a more accurate representation. 




650 


FINE ARTS. 


In the battle scenes on the temples of Thebes, some ol the 
figures representing the monarch pursuing the flying enemy, 
despatching a hostile chief with his sword, and drawing his bow, 
as his horses carry his car over the prostrate bodies ot the slain, 
are drawn with much spirit, and the position of the arms gives 
a perfect idea of the action which the artist intended to portray; 
still, the same imperfections of style, and want of truth, are ob¬ 
served; there is action, but no sentiment, expression of the pas¬ 
sions, nor life in the features; it is a figure ready formed, and 
mechanically varied into movement, and whatever position it is 
made to assume, the point of view is the same: the identical pro¬ 
file of the human body with the anomaly of the shoulders seen 
in front. It is a description rather than a representation. 

But in their mode of portraying a large crowd of persons 
they often show great cleverness, and, as their habit was to avoid 
uniformity, the varied positions of the heads give a truth to the 
subject without fatiguing the eye. Nor have the)’ any symmetri¬ 
cal arrangement of figures, on opposite sides of a picture, such 
as we find in some of the very early paintings in Europe. 

As their skill increased, the mere figurative representation 
was extended to that of a descriptive kind, and some resemblance 
of the hero’s person was attempted; his car, the army he com¬ 
manded, and the flying enemies, were introduced, and what was 
at first scarcely more than a symbol, aspired to the more exalted 
form and character of a picture. Of a similar nature were all 
their historical records, and these pictorial illustrations were a 
substitute for written documents. Rude drawing and sculpture, 
indeed, long preceded letters, and we find that even in Greece, to 
describe, draw, engrave, and write, were expressed by the same 
word. 

Of the quality of the pencils used by the Egyptians for 
drawing and painting, it is difficult to form any opinion. Those 
generally employed for writing were a reed or rush, many of 


ETRUSCAN PAINTING. 


6 S l 

which have been found with the tablets or inkstands belonging: 
to the scribes; and with these, too, they probably sketched the 
figures in red and black upon the stone or stucco of the walls. 
To put in the color, we may suppose that brushes of some kind 
were used, but the minute scale on which the painters are 
represented in the sculptures prevents our deciding the question. 

Habits among men of similar occupations are frequently 
alike, even in the most distant countries, and we find it was not 
unusual for an Egyptian artist, or scribe, to put his reed pencil 
behind his ear, when engaged in examining the effect of his paint¬ 
ing, or listening to a person on business, like a clerk in the 
counting-house. 

The Etruscans, it is said, cultivated painting before the 
Greeks, and Pliny attributes to the former a certain degree of 
perfection before the Greeks had emerged from the infancy of 
the art. Ancient paintings at Ardea, in Etruria, and at Lanu- 

r 

vium still retained, in the time of Pliny, all their primitive fresh- 
ness. According to Pliny, paintings of a still earlier date were 
to be seen at Caere, another Etruscan city. Those paintings 
mentioned by Pliny were commonly believed to be earlier than 
the foundation of Rome. At the present day the tombs of 
Etruria afford examples of Etruscan painting in every stage of 
its development, from the rudeness and conventionality of early 
art in the tomb of Veii to the correctness and ease of design, 
and the more perfect development of the art exhibited in the 
painted scenes in the tombs of Tarquinii. In one of these tombs 
the pilasters are profusely adorned with arabesques, and a frieze 
which runs round the side of the tomb is composed of painted 
figures draped, winged, armed, fighting, or borne in chariots. 
The subjects of these paintings are various; in them we find the 
ideas of the Etruscans on the state of the soul after death, com¬ 
bats of warriors, banquets, funeral scenes. The Etruscans painted 
also bas-reliefs and statues. 


652 


FINE ARTS 


The Greeks carried painting to the highest degree of perfec¬ 
tion; their first attempts were long posterior to those ot the 
Egyptians; they do not even date as far back as the epoch ot the 
siege of Troy; and Pliny remarks that Homer does not mention 
painting. The Greeks always cultivated sculpture in preference. 
Pausanias enumerates only eighty-eight paintings, and forty-three 
portraits; he describes, on the other hand, 2,827 statues. These 
were, in fact, more suitable ornaments to public places, and the 
crods were always represented in the temple by sculpture. In 
Greece painting followed the invariable law of development. Its 
cycle was run through. Painting passed through the successive 
stages of rise, progress, maturity, decline, and decay. The art 
of design in Greece is said to have had its origin in Corinth. 
The legend is: the daughter of Dibutades, a potter of Corinth, 
struck by the shadow of her lover’s head cast by the lamp on 
the wall, drew its outline, filling it in with a dark shadow. 
Hence, the earliest mode of representing the human figure was 
a silhouette. The simplest form of design or drawing was mere 
outline, or monogrammon, and was invented by Cleanthes, of 
Corinth. After this the outlines were filled in, and light and 
shade introduced of one color, and hence were styled mono¬ 
chromes. Telephanes, of Sicyon, further improved the art by 
indicating the principal details of anatomy; Euphantes, of Cor¬ 
inth, or Craton, of Sicyon, by the introduction of color. Cimon, 
of Cleonae, is the first who is mentioned as having advanced the 
art of painting in Greece, and as having emancipated it from its 
archaic rigidity, by exchanging the conventional manner of ren¬ 
dering the human form for an approach to truthfulness to nature. 
He also first made muscular articulations, indicated the veins, 
and gave natural folds to draperies. He is also supposed to have 
been the first who used a variety of colors, and to have intro¬ 
duced foreshortening. The first painter of great renown was 
Polygnotus. Accurate drawing, and a noble and distinct man- 


RENOWNED PAINTERS. 


6 53 


Tier of characterizing the most different mythological forms was 
his great merit; his female figures also possessed charms and 
grace. His large tabular pictures were conceived with great 
knowledge of legends, and in an earnest religious spirit. At 
Athens he painted, according to Pausanias, a series of paintings 
of mythological subjects in the Pinakotheke in the Propylsea on 
the Acropolis, and pictorial decorations for the temple of The¬ 
seus, and the Pcecile. He executed a series of paintings at 
Delphi on the long walls of the Lesche. The wall to the right 
on entering the Lesche bore scenes illustrative of the epic myth 
of the taking of Troy; the left, the visit of Ulysses to the lower 
world, as described in the Odyssey. Pliny remarks that in place 
of the old severity and rigidity of the features he introduced a 
great variety of expression, and was the first to paint figures 
with the lips open. Lucian attributes to him great improve¬ 
ments in the rendering of drapery so as to show the forms under¬ 
death. Apollodorus, of Athens, was the first great master of 
light and shade. According to Pliny he was the first to paint 
men and things as they really appear. A more advanced stage 
of improved painting began with Zeuxis, in which art aimed at 
illusion of the senses and the rendering of external charms. He 
appears to have been equally distinguished in the representation 
of female charms, and of the sublime majesty of Zeus on his 
throne. His masterpiece was his picture of Helen, in painting 
which he had as his models the five most beautiful virgins of 
Croton. 

Neither the place nor date of the birth of Zeuxis can be 
accurately ascertained, though he was probably born about 455 
B. C., since thirty years after that date we find him practicing 
his art with great success at Athens. He was patronized by 
Archelaus, King of Macedonia, and spent some time at his court. 
He must also have visited Magna Grgecia, as he painted his 
celebrated picture of Helen for the City of Croton. He acquired 


6 54 


FINE ARTS. 


great wealth by his pencil, and was very ostentatious in display¬ 
ing it. He appeared at Olympia in a magnificent robe, having 
his name embroidered in letters of gold, and the same vanity is 
also displayed in the anecdote that, after he had reached the sum¬ 
mit of his fame, he no longer sold, but gave away, his pictures, 
as being above all price. With regard to his style of art, single 
figures were his favorite subjects. He could depict gods or 
heroes with sufficient majesty, but he particularly excelled in 
painting the softer graces of female beauty. In one important 
respect he appears to have degenerated from the style of Poly- 
gnotus, his idealism being rather that of form than of character 
and expression. Thus his style is analogous to that of Euripides 
in tragedy. He was a great master of color, and his paintings 
were sometimes so accurate and life-like as to amount to illusion. 
This is exemplified in the story told of him and Parrhasius. As 
a trial of skill, these artists painted two pictures. That of Zeuxis 
represented a bunch of grapes, and was so naturally executed 
that the birds came and pecked at it. After this proof, Zeuxis, 
confident of success, called upon his rival to draw aside the cur¬ 
tain which concealed his picture. But the painting of Parrhasius 
was the curtain itself, and Zeuxis was now obliged to acknowl- 
edge himself vanquished, for, though he had deceived birds, 
Parrhasius had deceived the author of the deception. But many 
of the pictures of Zeuxis also displayed great dramatic power. 
He worked very slowly and carefully, and he is said to have 
replied to somebody who blamed him for his slowness, “ It is 
true I take a long time to paint, but then I paint works to last a 
long time. 11 His master-piece was the picture of Helen, already 
mentioned. 

Parrhasius was a native of Ephesus, but his art was chiefly 
exercised at Athens, where he was presented with the right of 
citizenship. His date can not be accurately ascertained, but he 
was probably rather younger than his contemporary, Zeuxis, and 


PARRHASIUS 


655 


it is certain that he enjoyed a high reputation before the death 
of Socrates. The style and degree of excellence attained by 
Parrhasius appear to have been much the same as those of 
.Zeuxis. He was particularly celebrated for the accuracy of his 
drawing, and the excellent proportions of his figures. For these 



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painting. (2600 years old.) 

he established a canon, as Phidias had done in sculpture for gods, 
and Polycletus for the human figure, whence Quintilian calls 
him the legislator of his art. His vanity seems to have been as 
remarkable as that of Zeuxis. Among the most celebrated of 
his works was a portrait of the personified Athenian Demos, : 




































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































6 5 6 


FINE ARTS. 


which is said to have miraculously expressed even the most con¬ 
tradictory qualities of that many-headed personage. 

Parrhasius excelled in giving a roundness and a beautiful 
contour to his figures, and was remarkable for the richness and 
variety of his creations. His numerous pictures of gods and 
heroes attained the highest consideration in art. He was over¬ 
come, however, in a pictorial contest, in which the subject was 
the contest of Ulysses and Ajax for the arms of Achilles, by the 
ingenious Timanthes, in whose sacrifice of Iphigenia the ancients 
admired the expression of grief carried to that pitch of intensity 
at which art had only dared to hint. The most striking feature 
in the picture was the concealment of the face of Agamemnon in 
his mantle. (The concealment of the face of Agamemnon in 
this picture has been generally considered as a u trick ” or in¬ 
genious invention of Timanthes, when it was the result of a 
fundamental law in Greek art—to represent alone what was 
beautiful, and never to present to the eye anything repulsive or dis¬ 
agreeable; the features of a father convulsed with grief would 
not have been a pleasing object to gaze on; hence the painter, 
fully conscious of the laws of his art, concealed the countenance 
of Agamemnon.) Timanthes was distinguished for his invention 
and expression. Before all, however, ranks the great Apelles, 
who united the advantages of his native Ionia—grace, sensual 
charms, and rich coloring—with the scientific accuracy ot the 
Sicyonian school. The most prominent characteristic of his* 
style was grace (charis), a quality which he himself avowed as 
peculiarly his, and which serves to unite all the other gifts and 
faculties which the painter requires; perhaps in none of his 
pictures was it exhibited in such perfection as in his famous 
Anadyomene, in which Aphrodite is represented rising out of 
the sea, and wringing the wet out of her hair. But heroic 
subjects were likewise adapted to his genius, especially grandly- 
conceived portraits, such as the numerous likenesses of Alex- 




RENOWNED PAINTERS. 


657 


ander, by whom he was warmly patronized. He not only repre¬ 
sented Alexander with the thunderbolt in his hand, but he even 
attempted, as the master in light and shade, to paint thunder¬ 
storms, probably at the same time as natural scenes and mytho¬ 
logical personifications. The Anadyomene, originally painted 
for the temple of TEsculapius, at Cos, was transferred by Augus¬ 
tus to the temple of D. Julius, at Rome, where, however, it was 
in a decayed state even at the time of Nero. Contemporane¬ 
ously with him flourished Protogenes and Nicias. Protogenes 
was both a painter and a statuary, and was celebrated for the 
high finish of his works. His master-piece was the picture of 
Ialysus, the tutelary hero of Rhodes, where he lived. He is said 
to have spent seven years on it. Nicias, of Athens, was cele¬ 
brated for the delicacy with which he painted females. He was 
also famous as an encaustic painter, and was employed by Prax¬ 
iteles to apply his art to his statues. The glorious art of these 
masters, as far as regards light, tone, and local colors, is lost to 
us, and we know nothing of it except from obscure notices and 
later imitations. It is not thus necessary to speak at length of 
the various schools of painting in Greece, their works being all 
lost, the knowledge of the characteristics peculiar to each school 
would be at the present day perfectly useless. Painting had to 
follow the invariable law of all development; having reached a 
period of maturity, it followed, as a necessary consequence, that 
the period of decline should begin. The art of this period of 
refinement, Mr. Wornum writes, which has been termed the 
Alexandrian, because the most celebrated artist of this period 
lived about the time of Alexander the Great, was the last of 
progression, or acquisition, but it only added variety of effect to 
the tones it could not improve, and was principally characterized by 
the diversity of the styles of so many contemporary artists. The 
decadence of the arts immediately succeeded, the necessary conse¬ 
quence, when, instead of excellence, variety and originality be- 

4 2 


6 5 8 


FINE ARTS. 


came the end of the artist. The tendencies which are peculiar 
to this period gave birth sometimes to pictures which ministered 
to a low sensuality; sometimes to works which attracted by their 
effects of light, and also to caricatures and travesties of mytho¬ 
logical subjects. The artists of this period were under the 
necessity of attracting attention by novelty and variety; thus 
rhyparography, and the lower classes of art, attained the ascend¬ 
ency, and became the characteristic styles of the period. In 
these Pyreicus was pre-eminent; he was termed rhyparographos, 
on account of the mean quality of his subjects. After the de¬ 
struction of Corinth by Mummius and the spoliation of Athens 
by Sylla the art of painting experienced a rapid and total decay. 

We shall now make a few extracts from Mr. Wornunfs 
excellent article on the vehicles, materials, colors, and methods 
of painting used by the Greeks. 

The Greeks painted with wax, resins, and in water-colors, to 
which they gave a proper consistency, according to the material 
upon which they painted, with gum, glue, and the white of egg; 
gum and glue were the most common. 

They painted upon wood, clay, plaster, stone, parchment, 
and canvas. They generally painted upon panels or tables, and 
very rarely upon walls; and an easel, similar to what is now 
used, was common among the ancients. These panels, when 
finished, were fixed into frames ol various descriptions and 
materials, and encased in walls. The ancients used also a pal¬ 
ette very similar to that used by the moderns, as is sufficiently 
attested by a fresco painting from Pompeii, which represents a 
female painting a copy of Hermes, for a votive tablet, with a 
palette in her left hand. 

The earlier Grecian masters used only four colors: the earth 
of Melos for white; Attic ochre for yellow; Sinopis, an earth 
from Pontus, for red; and lamp-black; and it was with these 
simple elements that Zeuxis, Polygnotus, and others of that age, 


COLORS USED. 


6 59 


executed their celebrated works. By degrees new coloring sub¬ 
stances were found, such as were used by Apelles and Protogenes. 

So great, indeed, is the number of pigments mentioned by 
ancient authors, and such the beauty of them, that it is very 
doubtful whether, with all the help of modern science, modern 
artists possess any advantage in this respect over their predeces¬ 
sors. 

We now give the following list of colors, known to be gen¬ 
erally used by ancient painters: 

Red .—The ancient reds were very numerous, cinnabar, ver¬ 
milion, bisulphuret of mercury, called also by Pliny and Vitru¬ 
vius, minium. The cinnabaris indica, mentioned by Pliny and 
Dioscorides, was what is vulgarly called dragon’s blood, the 
resin obtained from various species of the calamus palm. Miltos 
seems to have had various significations; it was used for cin¬ 
nabaris, minium, red lead, and rubrica, red ochre. There were 
various kinds of rubricae; all were, however, red oxides, of 
which the best were the Lemnian, from the Isle of Lemnos, and 
the Cappadocian, called by the Romans rubrica sinopica, from 
Sinope in Paphlagonia. Minium, red oxide of lead, red lead, 
was called by the Romans cerussa usta, and, according to Vitru¬ 
vius, sandaracha. 

The Roman sandaracha seems to have had various significa¬ 
tions. Pliny speaks of the different shades of sandaracha; there 
was also a compound color of equal parts of sandaracha and 
rubrica calcined, called sandyx, which Sir H. Davy supposed to 
approach our crimson in tint; in painting it was frequently glazed 
with purple, to give it additional lustre. 

Yellow. —Yellow-ochre, hydrated peroxide of iron, the sil 
of the Romans, formed the base of many other yellows, mixed 
with various colors and carbonate of lime. Ochre was procured 
from different parts—the Attic was considered the best; some¬ 
times the paler sort of sandaracha was used for yellow. 




66 o 


FINE ARTS. 


Green. —Chrysocolla, which appears to have been green 
carbonate of copper, or malachite (green verditer), was the 
green most approved of by the ancients; there was also an arti¬ 
ficial kind which was made from clay impregnated with sulphate 
of copper (blue vitriol) rendered green by a yellow dye. The 
commonest and cheapest colors were the Appianum, which was 
a clay, and the creta viridis, the common green earth of Verona. 

Blue .—The ancient blues were very numerous; the princi¬ 
pal of these was cceruleum, azure, a species of verditer, or blue 
carbonate of copper, of which there were many varieties. The 
Alexandrian was the most valued, as approaching the nearest to 
ultramarine. It was also manufactured at Pozzuoli. This imi¬ 
tation was called ccelon. Armenium was a metallic color, and 
was prepared by being ground to an impalpable powder. It was 
of a light blue color. It has been conjectured that ultramarine 
(lapis lazuli) was known to the ancients under the name of Arme¬ 
nium, from Armenia, whence it was procured. It is evident, 
however, from Pliny’s description, that the u sapphirus ” of the 
ancients was the lapis lazuli of the present day. It came from 
Media. 

Indigo, indicum, was well known to the ancients. 

Purple .-—The ancients had several kinds of purple, purpur- 
issimum, ostrum, hysginum, and various compound colors. Pur- 
purissimum was made from creta argentaria, a fine chalk or 
clay, steeped in a purple dye, obtained from the murex. In 
color it ranged between minium and blue, and included everv 
degree in the scale of purple shades. The best sort came from 
Pozzuoli. Purpurissimum indicum was brought from India. 
It w as ot a deep blue, and pi obably was the same as indigo. 
Ostrum was a liquid color, to which the proper consistence was 
given by adding honey. It was produced from the secretion of 
a fish called ostrum, and differed in tint according to the country 
from whence it came; being deeper and more violet when 




COLORS USED. 


661 

brought from the northern, redder when from the southern 
coasts of the Mediterranean. The Roman ostrum was a com¬ 
pound of red ochre and blue oxide of copper. Hysginum, 
according to Vitruvius, is a color between scarlet and purple. 
The celebrated Tyrian dye was a dark, rich purple, of the color 
of coagulated blood, but, when held against the light, showed a 
crimson hue. It was produced by a combination of the secre¬ 
tions of the murex and buccinum. In preparing the dye the 
buccinum was used last, the dye of the murex being necessary 
to render the colors fast, while the buccinum enlivened by its tint 
of red the dark hue of the murex. Sir II. Davy, on examining 
a rose-colored substance, found in the baths of Titus, which in 
its interior had a lustre approaching to that of carmine, consid¬ 
ered it a specimen of the best Tyrian purple. The purpura, as 
mentioned in Pliny, was an amethyst or violet color. 

Brown .—Ochra usta, burnt ochre.—The browns were 
ochres calcined, oxides of iron and manganese, and compounds 
of ochres and blacks. 

Black. —Atramentum, or black, was of two sorts, natural 
and artificial. The natural was made from a black earth, or 
from the secretion of the cuttle-fish, sepia. The artificial was 
made of the dregs of wine carbonized, calcined ivory, or lamp¬ 
black. The atramentum indicum, mentioned by Pliny, was 
probably the Chinese Indian ink. 

White .—The ordinary Greek white was melinum, an earth 
from the Isle of Melos; for fresco-painting the best was the Afri¬ 
can parcetonium. There was also a white earth of Eretria and 
the annularian white. Carbonate of lead, or white lead, cerussa, 
was apparently not much used by the ancient painters. It has 
not been found in any of the remains of painting in Roman 
ruins. 

Methods of Painting .—There were two distinct classes of 
painting practiced by the ancients—in water colors and in wax, 






662 


FINE ARTS. 


both of which were practiced in various ways. Of the former 
the principal were fresco, al fresco; and the various kinds of dis¬ 
temper (a tempera), with glue, with the white of egg, or with 
gums (a guazzo); and with wax or resins when these were ren¬ 
dered by any means vehicles that could be worked with water. 
Of the latter the principal was through fire, termed encaustic. 

Fresco was probably little employed by the ancients for 
works of imitative art, but it appears to have been the ordinary 
method of simply coloring walls, especially amongst the Romans. 
Coloring al fresco, in which the colors were mixed simply in 
water, as the term implies, was applied when the composition of 
the stucco on the walls was still wet (udo tectorio), and on that 
account was limited to certain colors, for no colors except earths 
can be employed in this way. 

The fresco walls, when painted, were covered with an 
encaustic varnish, both to heighten the colors and to preserve 
them from the injurious effects of the sun or the weather. 
Vitruvius describes the process as a Greek practice. When 
the wall was colored and dry, Punic wax, melted and tempered 
with a little oil, was rubbed over it with a hard brush (seta); 
this was made smooth and even by applying a cauterium or an 
iron pan, filled with live coals, over the surface, as near to it as 
was just necessary to melt the wax; it was then rubbed with a 
candle (wax) and a clean cloth. In encaustic painting the wax 
colors were burnt into the ground by means of a hot iron (called 
cauterium) or pan of hot coals being held near the surface of the 
picture. The mere process of burning in constitutes the whole 
difference between encaustic and the ordinary method of painting 
with wax colors. 

We shall now say a few words with regard to the much 
canvassed question of painting or coloring statues. Its antiquity 
and universality admit of no doubt. Indeed, the practice of 
painting statues is a characteristic of a primitive and workman- 


SCULPTURE PAINTING. 


663 


ship of clay or wood. It was a survival of the old religious 
practices of daubing the early statues of the gods with vermilion, 
and was done to meet the superstitious tastes of the uneducated. 
Statues for religious purposes may have been painted in obedi¬ 
ence to a formula prescribed by religion, but statues as objects 
of art, on which the sculptor exhibited all his genius and taste, 
were unquestionably executed in the pure and uncolored marble 
alone. In the chryselephantine, or ivory statues of Jove and 
Minerva, by Phidias, art was made a handmaid to religion. 
Phidias himself would have preferred to have executed them in 
marble. 

We may further remark that form, in its purest ideal, being 
the chief aim of sculpture, any application of color, which would 
detract from the purity and ideality of this purest of the arts, 
could never be agreeable to refined taste. Coloring sculpture 
and giving it a life-like reality is manifestly trenching on the 
province of painting, and so departing from the true principle of 
sculpture, which is to give form in its most perfect and idealized 
development. We must also consider that sculpture in marble, 
by its whiteness, is calculated for the display of light and shade. 
For this reason statues and bas-reliefs were placed either in the 
open light to receive tire direct rays of the sun, or in under¬ 
ground places, or thermae, where they received their light either 
from an upper window, or, by night, from the strong light of a 
lamp, the sculptor having for that purpose studied the effects of 
the shadows. It must also be remembered that the statues in 
Greek and Roman temples received their light from the upper 
part of the building, many of the temples being hypaethral, thus 
having the benefit of a top light, the sculptor’s chief aim. Color 
in these statues or bas-reliefs would have tended to mar the con¬ 
trasts of light and shade, and blended them too much; for ex¬ 
ample, color a photograph of a statue, which exhibits a marked 
contrast of light and shade, and it will tend to contuse and blend 


664 


FINE ARTS. 


the two. The taste for polychrome sculpture in the period of 
the decline of art was obviously but a returning to the primitive 
imperfection of art, when an attempt was made to produce illu¬ 
sion in order to please the uneducated taste of the vulgar. 

The Romans derived their knowledge of painting from the 
Etruscans, their ancestors and neighbors; the first Grecian 
painters who came to Italy are said to have been brought over 
by Demaratus, the father of Tarquinius Prisons, King of Rome; 
at all events Etruria appears to have exercised extensive in¬ 
fluence over the arts of Rome during the reign of the Tarquins. 
Tradition attributes to them the first works which were used to 
adorn the temples of Rome, and, according to Pliny, not much 
consideration was bestowed either on the arts or on the artists. 
Fabius, the first among the Romans, had some painting executed 
in the temple of Salus, from which he received the name of 
Pictor. The works of art brought from Corinth by Mummius, 
from Athens by Sulla, and from Syracuse by Marcellus, intro¬ 
duced a taste for paintings and statues in their public buildings, 
which eventually became an absorbing passion with many dis¬ 
tinguished Romans. Towards the end of the republic Rome 
was full of painters. Julius Caesar, Agrippa, Augustus, were 
among the earliest great patrons of artists. Suetonius informs 
us that Caesar expended great sums in the purchase of pictures 
by the old masters. Under Augustus, Marcus Ludius painted 
marine subjects, landscape decorations, and historic landscape as 
ornamentation for the apartments of villas and country houses. 
He invented that style of decoration which we now call ara¬ 
besque or grotesque. It spread rapidly, insomuch that the baths 
of Titus and Livia, the remains discovered at Cumae, Pozzuoli, 
Herculaneum, Stabiae, Pompeii, in short, whatever buildings 
about that date have been found in good preservation, afford 
numerous and beautiful examples of it. At this time, also, a 
passion for portrait painting prevailed; an art which flattered 


FRESCO PAINTING. 


665 


their vanity was more suited to the tastes of the Romans than 
the art which could produce beautiful and refined works similar 
to those of Greece. Portraits must have been exceedingly 
numerous; Varro made a collection of the portraits of 700 emi¬ 
nent men. Portraits, decorative and scene painting, seem to have 
engrossed the art. The example, or rather the pretensions, of 
Nero must also have contributed to encourage painting in Rome; 
but Roman artists were, however, but few in number; the vic¬ 
tories of the consuls, and the rapine of the praetors, were suffi¬ 
cient to adorn Rome with all the master-pieces of Greece and 
Italy. They introduced the fashion of having a taste for the 
beautiful works of Greek art. At a later period, such was the 
corrupt state of taste, that painting was almost left to be prac¬ 
ticed by slaves, and the painter was estimated by the quantity 
of work that he could do in a day. 

The remains of painting found at Pompeii, Herculaneum, 
and in the baths of Titus, at Rome, are the only paintings which 
can give us any idea of the coloring and painting of the 
ancients, which, though they exhibit many beauties, particu¬ 
larly in composition, are evidently the works of inferior artists 
in a period of decline. At Pompeii there is scarcely a house 
the walls of which are not decorated with fresco paintings. 
The smallest apartments were lined with stucco, painted in the 
most brilliant and endless variety of colors, in compartments 
simply tinted with a light ground, surrounded by an ornamental 
margin, and sometimes embellished with a single figure or 
subject in the center, or at equal distances. These paintings 
are very frequently historical or mythological, but embrace 
every variety of subject, some of the most exquisite beauty. 
Landscape painting was never a favorite with the ancients, 
and if ever introduced in a painting, was subordinate. The 
end and aim of painting among the ancients was to represent 
and illustrate the myths of the gods, the deeds of heroes, and 


666 


FINE ARTS. 


important historical events, hence giving all prominence to the 
delineation of the human form. Landscape, on the other hand, 
illustrated nothing, represented no important event deserving of 
record, and was thus totally without significance in a Grecian 
temple or pinacotheca. In an age of decline, as at Pompeii, it 
was employed for mere decorative purposes. Many architectural 
subjects are continually found in which it is easy to trace the 
true principles of perspective, but they are rather indicated 
than minutely expressed or accurately displayed; whereas in 
most instances a total want of the knowledge of this art is but 
too evident. Greek artists seem to have been employed; indeed, 
native painters were few, while the former everywhere abounded, 
and their superiority in design must have always insured them 
the preference. 

The subjects of Roman mural paintings are usually Greek 
myths; in the composition and style we see Greek conception, 
modified by Roman influence. The style of drawing is rather 
dexterous than masterly; rapidity of execution seems to be 
more prized than faithful, conscientious representation of the 
truth of nature; the drawing is generally careless, and effects 
are sometimes produced by tricks and expedients, which belong 
rather to scene-painting than to the higher branches of art. It 
must not, however, be forgotten that the majority of these 
pictures were architectural decorations, not meant to be regarded 
as independent compositions, but as parts of larger compositions, 
in which they were inserted as in a frame. As examples of 
ancient coloring they are of the highest interest, and much 
may be learnt from them in reference to the technical materials 
and processes employed by ancient artists. 



J3cULPTUP v INQ. 


We do not intend to enter here on the history of sculpture 
in all its phases, but to give the distinctive features which char¬ 
acterize the different styles of Egyptian, Greek, and Roman 
sculpture, as they are visible in statues of the natural or colossal 
size, in statues of lesser proportion, and lastly in busts and bas- 
reliefs. 

We shall give also the styles of each separate nation which 
prevailed at each distinct age or epoch, styles which mark the 
stages of the development of the art of sculpture in all countries. 
Sculpture, like architecture and painting, indeed all art, had an 
indigenous and independent evolution in all countries, all these 
arts springing up naturally, and taking their origin alike every¬ 
where in the imitative faculty of man. They had their stages 
of development in the ascending and descending scales, their rise, 

t 

progress, culminating point, decline and decay, their cycle of 
development; the sequence of these stages being necessarily de¬ 
veloped wherever the spirit of art has arisen, and has had growth 
and progress. The first and most important step in examining a 
work of ancient sculpture is to distinguish with certainty whether 
it is of Egyptian, Etruscan, Greek, or Roman workmanship; and 
this distinction rests entirely on a profound knowledge of the 
style peculiar to each of those nations. The next step is, from 
its characteristic features, to distinguish what period, epoch, or 
stage of the development of the art of that particular nation it 
belongs to. We shall further give the various attributes and 
characteristics of the gods, goddesses, and other mythological 

667 



668 


FINE ARTS. 


personages which distinguish the various statues visible in Egyp¬ 
tian, Etruscan, Greek, and Roman sculpture. 

This enumeration will be found ot use in the many sculpture 
galleries of the various museums both at home and abroad. 

Man attempted sculpture long before he studied architec¬ 
ture ; a simple hut, or a rude house, answered every purpose as a 
place of abode, and a long time elapsed before he sought to 
invent what was not demanded by necessity. 

Architecture is a creation of the mind; it has no model in 
nature, and it requires great imaginative powers to conceive its 
ideal beauties, to make a proper combination ot parts, and to 
judge of the harmony of forms altogether new and beyond the 
reach of experience. But the desire in man to imitate and to 
record what has passed before his eyes, in short, to transfer the 
impression from his own mind to another, is natural in every 
stage of society; and however imperfectly he may succeed in 
representing the objects themselves, his attempts to indicate their 
relative position, and to embody the expression of his own ideas, 
are a source of the highest satisfaction. 

As the wish to record events gave the first, religion gave the 
second impulse to sculpture. The simple pillar of wood or stone, 
which was originally chosen to represent the deity, afterwards 
assumed the human form, the noblest image of the power that 
created it; though the Hennce of Greece were not, as some have 
thought, the origin of statues, but were borrowed from the 
mummy-shaped gods of Egypt. 

Pausanias thinks that u all statues were in ancient times of 
wood, particularly those made in Egypt; 17 but this must have 
been at a period so remote as to be far beyond the known his¬ 
tory of that country; though it is probable that when the arts 
were in their infancy the Egyptians were confined to statues of 
that kind; and they occasionally erected wooden figures in their 
temples, even till the times of the latter Pharaohs. 


SCULPTURE IN GREECE AND EGYPT. 


669 


Long after men had attempted to make out the parts of the 
figure, statues continued to be very rude; the arms were placed 
directly down the side of the thighs, and the legs were united 
together; nor did they pass beyond this imperfect state in 
Greece, until the age of Daedalus. Fortunately for themselves 
and for the world, the Greeks were allowed to free themselves 
from old habits, while the Egyptians, at the latest periods, con¬ 
tinued to follow the imperfect models of their early artists, and 
were forever prevented from arriving at excellence in sculpture; 
and though they made great progress in other branches of art, 
though they evinced considerable taste in the forms of their vases, 
their furniture, and even in some architectural details, they were 
forever deficient in ideal beauty, and in the mode of representing 
the natural positions of the human figure. 

In Egypt the prescribed automaton character of the figures 
effectually prevented all advancement in the statuary’s art; the 
limbs being straight, without any attempt at action, or, indeed, 
any indication of life; they were really statues of the person 
they represented, not the person “ living in marble,” in which 
they differed entirely from those of Greece. No statue of a 
warrior was sculptured in the varied attitudes of attack and 
defence; no wrestler, no discobolus , no pugilist exhibited the 
orace, the vigor, or the muscular action of a man; nor were the 
beauties, the feeling, and the elegance of female forms displayed 
in stone: all was made to conform to the same invariable model, 
which confined the human figure to a few conventional postures. 

A sitting statue, whether of a man or woman, was repre¬ 
sented with the hands placed upon the knees, or held across the 
breast; a kneeling figure sometimes supported a small shrine or 
sacred emblem; and when standing the arms were placed directly 
down the sides of the thighs, one foot (and that always the left) 
beino- advanced beyond the other, as if in the attitude of walk- 
ing, but without any attempt, to separate the legs. 


670 


FINE ARTS. 


The oldest Egyptian sculptures on all large monuments were 
in low relief, and, as usual at every period, painted (obelisks and 
everything carved in hard stone, some funeral tablets, and other 
small objects, being in intaglio); and this style continued in 
vogue until the time of Remeses II., who introduced intaglio 
very generally on large monuments; and even his battle scenes 
at Karnac and the Memnonium are executed in this manner. 
The reliefs were little raised above the level of the wall; they 
had generally a flat surface with the edges softly rounded off, far 
surpassing the intaglio in effect; and it is to be regretted that the 
best epoch of art, when design and execution were in their zenith, 
should have abandoned a style so superior; which, too, would 
have improved in proportion to the advancement of that period. 

After the accession of the twenty-sixth dynasty some at¬ 
tempt was made to revive the arts, which had been long neg¬ 
lected; and, independent of the patronage of government, the 
wealth of private individuals was liberally employed in their 
encouragement. Public buildings were erected in many parts 
of Egypt, and beautified with rich sculpture; the City of Sais, 
the royal residence of the Pharaohs of that dynasty, was 
adorned with the utmost magnificence, and extensive additions 
were made to the temples of Memphis, and even to those of the 
distant Thebes. 

The fresh impulse thus given to art was not without effect; 
the sculptures of that period exhibit an elegance and beauty 
which might even induce some to consider them equal to the 
productions of an earlier age, and in the tombs of the Assaseef, 
at Thebes, are many admirable specimens of Egyptian art. To 
those, however, who understand the true feeling of this peculiar 
school, it is evident, that though in minuteness and finish they 
are deserving of the highest commendation, yet in grandeur of 
conception and in boldness of execution they fall far short of the 
sculptures of Sethos and the second. Remeses. 


SCULPTURES OF ANCIENT KINGS. 671 

The skill of the Egyptian artists in drawing bold and clear 
outlines is, perhaps, more worthy of admiration than anything 
connected with this branch of art, and in no place is the freedom 
oi their drawing more conspicuous than in the figures in the un¬ 
finished part of Belzoni’s tomb, at Thebes. It was in the draw¬ 
ing alone that they excelled, being totally ignorant of the correct 
mode of coloring a figure, and their painting was not an imita¬ 
tion of nature, but merely the harmonious combination of certain 
hues, which they well understood. Indeed, to this day the 
harmony of positive colors is thoroughly felt in Egypt and the 
East, and it is strange to find the little perception of it in 
Northern Europe, where theories take upon themselves to ex¬ 
plain to the mind what the eye has not yet learned, as if a gram¬ 
mar could be written before the language is understood. 

A remarkable feature of Egyptian sculpture is the frequent 
representation of their Kings in a colossal form. The two most 
famous colossi are the seated figures in the plain of Thebes. 
One is recognized to be the vocal Memnon (Amunoph III.) 
mentioned by Strabo. They are forty-seven feet high, and 
measure about eighteen feet three inches across the shoulders. 
But the grandest and largest colossal statue was the stupendous 
statue of King Remeses II., a Syenite granite, in the Memno- 
nium, at Thebes. It represented the King seated on a throne, 
in the usual attitude of Kings, the hands resting on his knees. 
It is now in fragments. It measured twenty-two feet four inches 
across the shoulders. According to Sir G. Wilkinson, the whole 
mass, when entire, must have weighed about 887 tons. A 
colossal statue of Remeses II. lies with his face upon the ground 
on the site of Memphis; it was placed before the temple of 
Pthah. Its total height is estimated at forty-two feet eight 
inches, without the pedestal. It is of white siliceous limestone. 
Another well-known colossus is the statue of the so-called 
Memnon, now in the British Museum. It is supposed to be the 


FINE ARTS. 


2 

statue of Remeses II. It was brought by Belzoni from the 
Memnonium, at Thebes. 

In the different epochs of Egyptian sculpture, the Egyptian 
artists were bound by certain fixed canons or rules of proportion 
to guide them in their labors, and which they were obliged to 
adhere to rigidly. The following are the canons of three distinct 
epochs: i. The canon of the time of the pyramids, the height 
was reckoned at six feet from the sole of the foot to the crown 
of the head, and subdivisions obtained by one-half or one-third 
of a foot. 2. The canon from the twelfth to the twenty-second 
dynasty is only an extension of the first. The whole figure was 
contained in a number of squares of half a foot, and the whole 
height divided into eighteen parts. In these two canons the 
height above the sixth foot is not reckoned. 3. The canon of 
the age of Psammetici, which is mentioned by Diodorus, reckon¬ 
ing the entire height at twenty-one and one-fourth feet from the 
sole to the crown of the head, taken to the upper part. The 
proportions are different, but without any introduction of the 
Greek canon. The canon and the leading lines were originally 
traced in red, subsequently corrected by the principal artist in 
black, and the design then executed. In Egypt, almost every 
object of sculpture and architecture was painted. The colossal 
Egyptian statues are generally of granite, basalt, porphyry, or 
sandstone. The two colossi on the plain of Thebes are, of course, 
hard gritstone. The Egyptians also worked in dark and red 
granites, breccias, serpentines, arragonite, limestones, jaspers, 
feldspar, cornelian, glass, gold, silver, bronze, lead, iron, the 
hard woods, fir or cedar, sycamore, ebony, acacia, porcelain and 
ivory, and terra cotta. All objects, from the most gigantic 
obelisk to the minute articles of private life, are found decorated 
with hieroglyphics. 

Egyptian sculptors were also remarkable for the correct and 
excellent representation of animals. There may, indeed, be 



ANIMAL SCULPTURE. 


6 73 


noticed in their representation a freedom of hand, a choice and 
variety of forms, a truthfulness, and even what deserves to be 
called imitation, which contrast with the uniformity, the rigidity, 
the absence of nature and life, which human figures present. 
Plato mentions a law which forbade the artists to depart, in the 
slightest degree, in the execution of statues of the human form 
from the type consecrated by priestly authority. The artist, 
therefore, not being restricted in his study of the animal form, 
could thus give to his image greater variety of motion, and by 
imitating animals in nature, indemnify himself for the constraint 
he experienced when he represented Kings and priests. The 
two colossal lions in red granite, brought to England by the 
late Duke of Northumberland, may be considered as remarkably 
good specimens of Egyptian art, as applied to the delineation of 
animal forms. They evince a considerable knowledge of anatomy 
in the strongly-marked delineation of the muscular development. 
The form also is natural and easy, thus admirably expressing 
the idea of strength in a state of repose. They were sculptured 
in the reign of Amunoph III. The representations of the sacred 
animals, the cynocephalus, the lion, the jackal, the ram, etc., 
are frequently to be met with in Egyptian sculpture. 

Greek .—The stages of the cycle of development of the art 
of sculpture in Greece may be given in five distinct periods or 
epochs, naming these, for greater convenience, chiefly from the 
name of the principal artist whose style prevailed at that period: 

I. The Daedalean, or early . . ( —580 B. C.) 

II. The EEginetan, or archaic . (580—480 B. C.) 

III. The Phidian, or the grand . (480—400 B. C.) 

IV. The Praxitelean, or the beautiful (400—250 B. C.) 

V. The Decline.( 2 S°— ) 

Prior to the age of Daedalus, there was an earlier stage in 
the development of art, in which the want of art, which is pecu¬ 
liar to that early stage, was exhibited in rude attempts at the 

43 








FINE ARTS. 


674 

representation of the human figure, for similar and almost iden¬ 
tical rude representations are attempted in the early stages of 
art in all countries; as the early attempts of children are nearly 
identical in all ages. The presence of a god was indicated in a 
manner akin to the Fetichism of the African, by the simplest 
and most shapeless objects, such as unhewn blocks of stone and 
by simple pillars or pieces of wood. The first attempt at repre¬ 
sentation consisted in fashioning a block of stone or wood into 
some semblance of the human form, and this rude attempt con¬ 
stituted a divinity. Of this primitive form was the Venus of 
Cyprus, the Cupid of Thespiae; the Juno of Argos was fashioned 
in a similar rude manner from the trunk of a wild pear tree. 
These attempts were thus nothing more than shapeless blocks, 
the head, arms, and legs scarcely defined. Some of these 
wooden blocks are supposed to have been, in a coarse attempt 
at imitation, furnished with real hair, and to have been clothed 
with real draperies in order to conceal the imperfection of the 
form. The next step was to give these shapeless blocks a 
human form. The upper part assumed the likeness of a head, 
and by degrees arms and legs were marked out; but in these 
early imitations of the human figure the arms were, doubtless, 
represented closely attached to the sides; and the legs, though to 
a certain extent defined, were still connected and united in a 
common pillar. 

The age of Daedalus marks an improvement in the model¬ 
ing of the human figure, and in giving it life and action. This 
improvement in the art consisted in representing the human fig¬ 
ure with the arms isolated from the body, the legs detached, and 
the eyes open; in fine, giving it an appearance of nature as well 
as of life, and thus introducing a principle of imitation. This im¬ 
portant progress in the practice of the art is the characteristic 
feature of the school of Daedalus, for under the name of Daedalus 
we must understand the art of sculpture itself in its primitive 


MODELING OF THE HUMAN FIGURE. 


6 75 


form, and in its first stage of development. Aceording to Flax- 
man, the rude efforts of this age were intended to represent 
divinities and heroes only—Jupiter, Neptune, Hercules, and sev¬ 
eral heroic characters, had the selfsame face, figure, and action; 
the same narrow eyes, thin lips, with the corners of the mouth 
turned upwards; the pointed chin, narrow loins, turgid muscles; 
the same advancing position of the lower limbs; the right hand 
raised beside the head, and the left extended. Their only dis¬ 
tinctions were that Jupiter held the thunderbolt, Neptune the 
trident, and Hercules a palm branch or bow. The female divin¬ 
ities were clothed in draperies divided into few and perpendicular 
folds, their attitudes advancing like those of the male figures. 
The hair of both male and female statues of this period is 
arranged with great care, collected in a club behind, sometimes 
entirely curled. 

Between the rudeness of the Dsedalean and the hard and 
severe style of the HSginetan there was a transitional style, to 
which period the artists Dipcenus and Scyllis are assigned by 
Pliny. The metopes of the temple of Selinus in Sicily, the bas- 
reliefs’ representing Agamemnon, Epeus, and Talthybius, in the 
Louvre, the Harpy monument in the British Museum, and the 
Apollo of Tenea, afford examples of this style. 

yEginetan .—In the vEginetan period of sculpture there was 
still retained in the character of the heads, in the details of the 
costume, and in the manner in which the beard and the hair are 
treated, something archaic and conventional, undoubtedly de¬ 
rived from the habits and teachings of the primitive school. 
But there prevails at the same time, in the execution of the 
human form, and the manner in which the nude is treated, a 
knowledge of anatomy, and an excellence of imitation carried to 
so high a degree of truth as to give convincing proofs of an ad¬ 
vanced step and higher stage in the development of the art. 
The following are the principal characteristics of the TEginetan 




676 


FINE ARTS. 


style, as derived from a careful examination of the statues found 
in yEgina, which were the undoubted productions of the school 
of the TEginetan period. The style in which they are executed 
is called Hieratic, or Archaic. 

The heads, either totally destitute of expression, or all re¬ 
duced to a general and conventional expression, present, in the 
oblique position of the eyes and mouth, that forced smile which 
seems to have been the characteristic feature common to all pro¬ 
ductions of this archaic style; for we find it also on the most 
ancient medals, and on bas-reliefs of the primitive period. 

The hair, treated likewise in a systematic manner in small 
curls or plaits, worked with wonderful industry, imitates not 
real hair, but genuine wigs, a peculiarity which may be remarked 
on other works in the ancient style, and of Etruscan origin. 
The beard is indicated on the cheek by a deep mark, and is 
rarely worked in relief, but, in the latter case, so as to imitate a 
false beard, and consequently in the same system as the hair. 
The costume partakes of the same conventional and hieratic 
taste; it consists of drapery, with straight and regular folds, 
falling in symmetrical and parallel masses, so as to imitate the 
real draperies in which the ancient statues in wood were draped. 
These conventional forms of the drapery and hair may, there¬ 
fore, be considered as deriving their origin from an imitation of 
the early statues in wood, the first objects of worship and of art 
among the Greeks, which were frequently covered with false 
hair, and clothed with real draperies. The muscular develop¬ 
ment observable in these figures is somewhat exaggerated, but, 
considering the period, is wonderfully accurate and true to 
nature. The genius for imitation exhibited in this style, carried 
as far as it is possible in the expression of the forms of the body, 
although still accompanied by a little meagreness and dryness, 
the truth of detail, the exquisite care'in the execution, evince so 
profound a knowledge of the structure of the human body, so 


6 77 


“THE SCULPTOR OF THE GODS.” 

great a readiness of hand—in a word, an imitation of nature so 
skillful, and, at the same time, so simple, that one can not but 
recognize in them the productions of an art which had arrived 
at a point which required only a few steps more to reach perfec¬ 
tion. To the latter part of this period belong the sculptors 
Canachus, Calamis, and Pythagoras. Canachus was the sculp¬ 
tor of a famous statue’ ot a nude Apollo in bronze, termed 
Philesius, at Didymi, near Miletus, and was considered as very 
hard in his style. 

Phidian .—“ This period (we here adopt Mr. Vaux’s words) 
is the golden age ot Greek art. During this period arose a 
spirit of sculpture which combined grace and majesty in the hap¬ 
piest manner, and by emancipating the plastic art from the fetters 
of antique stiffness, attained, under the direction of Pericles, and 
by the hand of Phidias, its culminating point. It is curious to 
remark the gradual progress of the arts; for it is clear that it 
was slowly and not per saltum that the gravity of the elder 
school was changed to the perfect style of the age of Phidias.” 
In this phase of the art, the ideal had reached its zenith, and we 
behold a beauty and perfection which has never been equaled. 
In this age alone sculpture, by the grandeur and sublimity it had 
attained to in its style, was qualified to .give a form to the sub¬ 
lime conceptions of the deity evolved by the mind of Phidias, 
lie alone was considered able to embody and to render manifest 
to the eye the sublime images of Homer. Hence, he was called 
“the sculptor of the gods.” It is well known that in the concep¬ 
tion of his Jupiter Olympus, Phidias wished to render manifest, 
and that he succeeded in realizing, the sublime image under 
which Homer represents the master of the gods. The sculptor 
embodied that image in the following manner, according to Pau- 
sanias: u The god, made of ivory and gold, is seated on a throne, 
his head crowned with a branch of olive, his right hand presented 
a Victory of ivory and gold, with a crown and fillet; his left 



678 


FINE ARTS. 


hand held a sceptre, studded with all kinds ol metals, on which 
an eagle sat; the sandals of the god were gold, so was his 
drapery, on which were various animals, with flowers of all kinds, 
especially lilies; his throne was richly wrought with gold and 
precious stones. There were also statues; four Victories, alight¬ 
ing, were at each foot of the throne; those in front rested each 
on a sphinx that had seized a Theban youth; below the sphinxes 
the children of Niobe were slain by the arrows of Apollo and 
Artemis.” This statue, Flaxman observes, sixty feet in height, 
was the most renowned work of ancient sculpture, not for stu¬ 
pendous magnitude alone, but more for careful majesty and sub¬ 
lime beauty. His Minerva in the Parthenon was of gold and 
ivory. The goddess was represented standing robed in a tunic, 
and her head covered with the formidable aegis; with her right 
hand she held a lance; in the left she held a statue of Victory 
about five feet hi gh; her helmet was surmounted by a sphinx 
and two griffins, and over the visor eight horses in front in full 
gallop. The shield erected at the feet of the goddess was 
adorned on both sides with bas-reliefs. At the base of the 
statue were a sphinx and a serpent. This colossus was thirty- 
seven feet high. The gem of Aspasus and the silver tetra- 
drachm of Athens are said to be copies of the head of this 
Minerva. 

Another remarkable statue of Phidias was the Athene Pro- 
machus, in the Acropolis. It represented the tutelary goddess of 
the Athenians, fully armed and in the attitude of battle, with 
one arm raised and holding a spear in her hand. This work 
was of colossal dimensions, and stood in the open air, nearly 
opposite the Propylsea. It towered above the roof of the Par¬ 
thenon, and it is said the crest of the helmet and the point of 
the spear could be seen far off' by ships approaching Athens 
from Sunium. Its height is supposed to have been, with its 
pedestal, about seventy feet; the material was bronze. There 


GRANDEUR OF STYLE. 


679 

are two marble statues which have come down to us, and which 
give some idea of the Minervas of Phidias. One is the Pallas 
of Velletri, which is supposed to be a copy of the Minerva Pro- 
machus (cut is on p. 530). The Farnese Minerva, at Naples, may 
afford some idea of the chryselephantine statue of the Parthenon. 
It does not, however, present the accessories of the Athenian figure. 
The Sphinx, the serpent and the shield are not represented. 
The sculptures of the Parthenon, now in the British Museum, 
can lead us to appreciate the manner of Phidias, and the charac¬ 
ter of his school, so observed by Flaxman. The statues of the 
pediments, the metopes, and bas-reliefs, are remarkable for the 
grandeur of style, simplicity, truth, beauty, which are the 
characteristics of this school. On the eastern pediment was 
represented the birth of Minerva, and on the western the con¬ 
test between Minerva and Neptune for the guardianship of the 
soil of Attica. Of the figures still preserved to us of the east¬ 
ern pediment, it has been generally supposed that the reclining 
figure may be identified as Theseus, that another is Ceres, a third 
Iris, the messenger, about to announce to mortals the great 
event of the birth of Minerva, which has just taken place, while 
the group of three female figures are considered to represent the 
three Fates. Of the western pediment, the remaining figures 
are Cecrops, the first King and founder of Athens, and Aglaura, 
his wife, and the river god, Ilissus, or Cephisus. The metopes, 
which generally represent single contests between the Athenians 
and the Centaurs, are in strong high relief, full of bold action and 
passionate exertion—though this is for the most part softened 
by great beauty of form and a masterly style of composition 
which knows how to adapt itself with the utmost freedom to the 
strict conditions of the space. These reliefs were placed high, 
as they were calculated for the full light of the sun, and to throw 
deeper shadows. 

The frieze may be considered as the chief glory of the art 



68 o 


FINE ARTS. 


of Phidias. The artists here expressed with the utmost beauty 
the signification of the temple by depicting a festive procession, 
which was celebrated every fifth year at Athens, in honor of 
Minerva, conveying in solemn pomp to the temple of the Par¬ 
thenon the peplos, or sacred veil, which was to be suspended 
before the statue of the goddess. The end of the procession has 
just reached the temple, the archons and heralds await, quietly 
conversing together, the end of the ceremony. They, are fol¬ 
lowed by a train of Athenian maidens, singly or in groups, many 
of them with cans and other vessels in their hands. Then fol¬ 
low men and women, then bearers of sacrificial gifts, then flute- 
players and musicians, followed by combatants in chariots, with 
four splendid horses. The whole is concluded by prancing 
horsemen, the prime of the manly youth of Athens. This frieze 
was within the colonnade of the Parthenon, on the upper part 
of the wall of the cella, and was continued round the building. 
By its position it only obtained a secondary light. Being placed 
immediately below the soffit, it received all its light from between 
the columns, and by reflection from the pavement below. Mr. 
Westmacott remarks that these works are unquestionably the 
finest specimens of the art that exist, and they illustrate fully 
and admirably the progress and, as it may be said, the consum¬ 
mation of sculpture. They exhibit in a remarkable degree all 
the qualities that constitute fine art—truth, beauty, and perfect 
execution. In the forms, the most perfect, the most appropriate 
and the most graceful have been selected. All that is coarse or 
vulgar is omitted, and that only is represented which unites the 
two essential qualities of truth and beauty. The result of this 
happy combination is what has been termed ideal beauty. These 
sculptures, however, which emanated from the mind of Phidias, 
and were most certainly executed under his eyes, and in his 
school, are not the works of his hands. Phidias himself dis¬ 
dained or worked but little in marble. They were, doubtless, 



STATUES. 


681 

the works of his pupils, Alcamenes, Agoracritus, Colotes, Paco- 
nios, and some other artists of his time. For, as Flaxman re¬ 
marks, the styles of different hands are sufficiently evident in the 
alto and basso rilievo. To the age of Phidias belong the sculp¬ 
tors Alcamenes, Agoracritus, and Paeonios. The greatest work 
of Alcamenes was a statue of Venus in the Gardens, a work 
to which it is said Phidias himself put the finishing touch. He 
also executed a bronze statue of a conqueror in the games, which 
Pliny says was known as the u Encrinomenos, the highly ap¬ 
proved.” Agoracritus, who, Pliny says, was such a favorite of 
Phidias that he gave his own name to many of that artist’s 
works, entered into a contest with Alcamenes, the subject being 
a statue of Venus. Alcamenes was successful, Pliny tells us, 
not that his work was superior, but because his fellow-citizens 
chose to give their suffrages in his favor, in preference to a 
stranger. It was for this reason that Agoracritus, indignant at 
his treatment, sold his statue on the express condition that it 
should never be taken to Athens, and changed its name to 
Nemesis. It was accordingly erected at Rhamnus. 

A marble statue of Victory, a beautiful Nike in excellent 
preservation, has been lately discovered at Olympia, bearing the 
name of Paeonios. This statue is mentioned by Pausanius as a 
votive offering set up by the Messenians in the Altis, the sacred 
grove of Zeus at Olympia. The statues in the eastern pediment 
of the temple of Jupiter at Olympia were by Paeonios, and those 
in the western by Alcamenes. The first represented the eques¬ 
trian contest of Pelops against Oenomaus, and in the second the 
Lapithae were represented fighting with the centaurs at the mar¬ 
riage of Pirithous. 

The frieze of the temple of Apollo at Bassae, near Phigaleia, 
in Arcadia, belongs to this period. It was the work of Ictinus, 
the architect of the Parthenon. Contests with the Amazons and 
battles with the centaurs form the subject of the whole. The 


682 


FINE ARTS. 


most animated and boldest compositions are sculptured in these 
reliefs. They exhibit, however, exaggeration, and are wanting 
in that repose and beauty which are the characteristics of the 
works of Phidias. 

In the half draped Venus of Milo now in the Louvre, we 
have a genuine Greek work, which represents an intermediate 
style between that of Phidias and Praxiteles. “ Grandly seri¬ 
ous,” Professor Lubke writes, “ and almost severe, stands the 
goddess of Love, not yet conceived as in later representations, 
as a love requiring woman. The simple drapery, resting on the 
hips, displays uncovered the grand forms of the upper part of the 
body, which, with all her beauty, have that mysteriously unap¬ 
proachable feeling which is the genuine expression of the divine.” 

Praxitilean .—This period is characterized by a more rich 
and flowing style of execution, as well as by the choice of softer 
and more delicate subjects than had usually been selected for 
representation. In this the beautiful was sought after rather 
than the sublime. Praxiteles may be considered the first sculp¬ 
tor who introduced this more sensual, if it may be so called, 
style of art, for he was the first who, in the unrobed Venus, 
combined the utmost luxuriance of personal charms with a spir¬ 
itual expression in which the queen of love herself appeared as a 
woman needful of love, and filled with inward lon^in^. Pie first 
gave a prominence to corporeal attractions, with which the deity 
was invested. His favorite subjects were of youtjiful and femi¬ 
nine beauty. In his Venus of Cnidos he exhibited the goddess 
in the most exquisite form of woman. His Cupid represented 
the beauty and grace of that age in boys which seemed to the 
Greeks the most attractive. His Apollo Sauroctonos presented 
the form of a youth of exquisite beauty and proportion. The 
Venus of Cnidos stands foremost as one of the celebrated art 
creations of antiquity. This artist represented the goddess com¬ 
pletely undraped; but this bold innovation was justified by the 



STATUES. 


683 

fact that she was taking up her garment with her left hand, as if 
she were just coming from her bath, while with her right she 
modestly covered her figure. Many as are the subsequent copies 
preserved of this famous statue, we can only conceive the out¬ 
ward idea of the attitude, but none ol the pure grandeur of the 
work ot Praxiteles. In the Vatican (Chiaramonte gallery, No. 
112) there is one ot very inferior execution, but perhaps the only 
one which gives a correct idea of this Venus, as it corresponds 
as nearly as possible with the pose of the statue on the coin of 
Cnidos and with the description of Lucan. 

Plis Cupid is represented as a slender, undeveloped boy, full 
of liveliness and activity, earnestly endeavoring to fasten the 
strings to his bow. A Roman copy of this statue is in the 
British Museum. 

He also executed in bronze a Faun, which was known as 
“ Periboetos, the much famed; 1 ’ the finest of the many copies of 
this celebrated statue that have come down to us, is in the Capi¬ 
tol ; and a youthful Apollo, styled Sauroctonos, because he is 
aiming an arrow at a lizard which is stealing towards him; a copy 
of this statue in marble is in the Vatican, and one in bronze in 
the Villa Albani. 

Contemporary with Praxiteles was Scopas. Plis works ex¬ 
hibit powerful expression, grandeur, combined with beauty and 
grace. The group of Niobe and her children, at Florence, has 
been attributed to him. Another very celebrated work of 
Scopas was the statue of the Pythian Apollo playing on the lyre, 
which Augustus placed in the temple which he built to Apollo, 
on the Palatine, in thanksgiving for his victory at Actium. An 
inferior Roman copy of this statue is in the Vatican. He was 
also celebrated for his heads of Apollo. Of these many ex¬ 
cellent copies are still extant, the finest being that formerly in the 
Giustiniani collection, and now in the British Museum. 

The late discoveries at Halicarnassus have yielded genuine 


68 4 


FINE ARTS. 


works of Scopas in the sculptures of the bas-reliefs of Mauso¬ 
leum, erected by Artemisia in memory of her husband, Mausolus, 
King of Caria, the east side of which is known to have pro¬ 
ceeded from his hands; the other sides by his contemporaries, 
Bryaxis, Timotheus and Leochares. Parts of these are now in 
the British Museum. 

The bas-reliefs of the temple of Nike Apteros have been as¬ 
sociated with the peculiarities which characterize the productions 
of Scopas. A figure of Victory, stooping to loose her sandal, in 
bas-relief from this temple, is remarkable for its admirably ar¬ 
ranged drapery. 

The sculptural decorations of the temple of Artemis, at 
Ephesus, the foundations of which have been lately discovered 
by Mr. Wood, there is every reason to believe were contributed 
by Praxiteles and Scopas. The drum of a column, with figures 
in bas-relief from this temple, has been lately added to the Brit¬ 
ish Museum. 

The beautiful foure of a Bacchante in bas-relief in the 

o 

British Museum is generally referred to Scopas. 

The following are some of the more particular character¬ 
istics of the human form, adopted by the Grecian sculptors of 
this age: 

In the profile, the forehead and lips touch a perpendicular 
line drawn between them. In young persons, the brow and nose 
nearly form a straight line, which gives an expression of gran¬ 
deur and delicacy to the face. The forehead was low, the eyes 
large, but not prominent. A depth was given to the eye to give 
to the eyebrow a finer arch, and, by a deeper shadow, a bolder 
relief. To the eyes a living play of light was communicated by 
a sharp projection of the upper eyelid, and a deep depression of 
the pupil. The eye was so differently shaped in the heads of 
divinities and ideal heads that it is itself a characteristic by 
which they can be distinguished. In Jupiter, Apollo, and Juno 


DESCRIPTION OF STATUES. 685 

the opening of the eye is large, and roundly arched; it has also 
less length than usual, that the curve which it makes may be 
more spherical. Pallas likewise has large eyes, but the upper 
lid falls over them more than in the three divinities just men¬ 
tioned, for the purpose of giving her a modest maiden look. 
Small eyes were reserved for Venuses and voluptuous beauties, 
which gave them a languishing air. The upper lip was short, 
the lower lip fuller than the upper, as this tended to give a 
roundness to the chin; the short upper lip, and the round and 
grandly-formed chin, being the most essential signs of genuine 
Greek formation. The lips were generally closed; they slightly 
open in the statues of the gods, especially in the case of Venus, 
but the teeth were never seen. The ear was carefully modeled 
and finished. The beauty, and especially the execution of them, 
is, according to Winkelman, the surest sign by which to discrim¬ 
inate the antique from additions and restorations. The hair was 
curly, abundant, and disposed in floating locks, and executed 
with the utmost imaginable care; in females it was tied in a 
knot behind the head. The frontal hair was represented as 
growing in a curve over the temples, in order to give the face an 
oval shape. The face was always oval, and a cross drawn in the 
oval indicated the design of the face. The perpendicular line 
marked the position of the brow, the nose, the mouth, and the 
chin; the horizontal line passed through the eyes, and was par¬ 
allel to the mouth. The hands of youth were beautifully 
rounded, and the dimples given; the fingers were tapered, but 
the articulations were not generally indicated. In the male 
form the chest was high, arched, and prominent. In the female 
form, especially in that of goddesses and virgins, the form of 
the breasts is virginal in the extreme, since their beauty was 
generally made to consist in the moderateness of their size. 
They were generally a little higher than nature. The abdo¬ 
men was without prominence. The legs and knees of youth- 


686 


FINE ARTS. 


fill figures are rounded with softness and smoothness, and un¬ 
marked by muscular movements. The proportion of the limbs 
was longer than in the preceding period. In male and female 
figures the foot was rounded in its form; in the female the toes 
are delicate, and have dimples over their first joints gently 
marked. 

It is evident that this type of beauty of form, adopted by 
the Grecian sculptors, is in unison with, and exhibits a marked 
analogy to the type of face and form of the Greeks themselves, 
for, as Sir Charles Bell observes, the Greek face is a fine oval, 
the forehead full and carried forward, the eyes large, the nose 
straight, the lips and chin finely formed; in short, the forms of 
the head and face have been the type of the antique, and of all 
which we most admire. 

The sculptors of this age, instead of aiming at an abstract, 
unattainable ideal, studied nature in its choicest forms, and at¬ 
tained the beautiful by selecting and concentrating in one those 
charms which are found diffused over all. They avoided the 
representation of all violent motions and perturbations of. the 
passions, which would have completely marred that expression 
of serene repose which is a prominent characteristic of the beau¬ 
tiful period of Greek sculpture. Indeed, the chief object of the 
Greek sculptor was the representation of the beautiful alone, 
and to this principle he made character, expression, costume, and 
everything else subordinate. 

Lysippus, the successor of Praxiteles and Scopas, was a con¬ 
temporary of Alexander the Great. He contributed to advance 
their style by the peculiar fullness, roundness, and harmonious 
general effect by which it appears that his works were charac¬ 
terized. His school exhibited a strong naturalistic tendency, a 
closer imitation of nature, leading to many refinements in detail. 
It was unquestionably greater in portrait than in ideal works. 
Pliny thus speaks of his style: u Pie is considered to have con- 


WORK OF LYSIPPUS. 


687 


tributed very greatly to the art of the statuary by expressing 
the details of the hair, and by making the head smaller than 
had been done by the ancients, and the body more graceful and 
less bulky, a method by which his statues were made to appear 
taller.'” 

The portrait statues of Alexander the Great by Lysippus 
were very numerous. The great King would only allow himself 
to be modeled by Lysippus. The head of Alexander, as the 
young Ammon on the coins of Lysimachus, is said to have been 
designed by him. An athlete, scraping his body with a strigil, 
was the most famous of the bronze statues of Lysippus. The 
statue of an athlete in the Vatican, in a similar position, is sup¬ 
posed to be a marble copy of the original bronze of Lysippus; 
though an inferior work, it illustrates the statements of Pliny 
regarding the proportions adopted by Lysippus—a small head 
and the body long and slim. The bas-reliefs also on the monu¬ 
ment of Lysicrates, representing the story of Dionysus and the 
Tyrrhenian pirates, presented all the characteristic features of the 
school of Lysippus. It was erected in the archonship of Euscne- 
tus, B. C. 335. 

The canon of Polycletus began to be generally adopted at 
this period. It was followed by Lysippus, who called the Dory- 
phoros of that artist his master. In his practice of dealing with 
the heads and limbs of his figures, Lysippus was followed by 
Silanion and Euphranor, and his authority may be said to have 
governed the school of Greece to a late period of the art. 

Pliny tells us that Euphranor was the first who represented 
heroes with becoming dignity, and who paid particular attention 
to proportion. He made, however, in the generality of instances, 
the bodies somewhat more slender and the heads larger. His 
most celebrated statue was a Paris, which expressed alike the 
judge of the goddesses, the lover of Helen, and the slayer of 
Achilles. The very beautiful sitting figure of Paris, in marble, 
in the Vatican, is, no doubt, a copy of this work. 



688 


FINE ARTS. 


Subsequently to these sculptors we have Chares, the Rho¬ 
dian, who constructed the famous colossus ot Helios at the en¬ 
trance of the harbor of Rhodes, which was 105 feet high. It 
appears there is no authority for the common statement that its 
legs extended over the mouth of the harbor. 

Of the later Asiatic or Rhodian schools we have the famous 
groups of the Laocoon, on page 555, and of Dirce tied to a bull, 
commonly called the Toro Farnese. In both of these the dra¬ 
matic element is predominant, and the tragic interest is not ap¬ 
preciated. In the Laocoon consummate skill is shown in the 
mastery of execution; but if the object of the artist was to 
create pity or awe, he has drawn too much attention to his power 
of carving marble. The Laocoon was executed, according to 
Pliny, by Agesander, Polydorus and Athenodorus, natives of 
Rhodes. This group, now in the Vatican, was found in the 
baths of Titus. From the evidence of an antique gem, on 
which is engraved a representation of this group, we find the 
right arm of the Laocoon has been wrongly restored. In the 

gem the hand of Laocoon is in contact with his head, and not, as 

• • 

restored by Giovanni da Montorsoli, raised high. 

The Farnese Bull, a work in which we possess the most 
colossal group of antiquity, was executed by Apollonius and 
Tauriscus, of Tralles. To the same school belongs the Dying 
Gladiator, who unquestionably represents, as usually supposed, a 
combatant who died in the amphitheatre. It is remarkable for 
the entire absence of ideal representation, and for its complete 
individuality and close imitation of nature. This statue is prob¬ 
ably one of the masterpieces of the celebrated Pyromachus, 
who executed several groups, and large compositions of battle 
scenes for Attalus, King of Pergamus, to celebrate his decisive 
victory over the Gauls (B. C. 240). 

To the later Athenian school belong probably the Belvidere 
Torso, so much admired by Michael Angelo, the Farnese Her- 


THE MACEDONIAN AGE. 


689 


cules, the Venus de’ Medici, and the Fighting Gladiator. The 
Belvidere Torso is now considered to be a copy by Apollonius, 
the son of Nestor, of the Hercules of Lysippus, and probably 
executed in the Macedonian period. The Farnese Hercules is 
so exaggerated in its style as to have been deemed a work as 



DYING GLADIATOR. 


late as the Roman empire. According to Flaxman, the Venus 
de’Medici is a deteriorated variety or repetition of a Venus of 
Praxiteles. It is now generally admitted that it is a work of 
the latest Macedonian period, probably by Cleomenes, whose 
name appears on its base. The Fighting Gladiator bears the 
name of Agasias of Ephesus. From the attitude of the figure 
it is clear that the statue represents not a gladiator, but a war¬ 
rior contending with a mounted combatant, probably an Athe¬ 
nian, warding off a blow from a centaur. 

The Macedonian age, to which most of these statues be¬ 
longed, commenced with Alexander the Great, and terminated 
with the absorption of Greek art by the Romans. 

Art having, in the two previous periods, reached its cul 
minating point of perfection, as is the law of all development, 
when a culminating point is reached, a downward tendency and 
a period of decline begins, for the cycle of development must be 

44 

































































































690 


FINE ARTS. 


completed and the stages of rise, progress, maturity, decline and 
decay run through. 

No exact date, however, can be assigned to the beginning 
of the stage of decline; no sharp line of demarcation can be 
pointed out dividing one stage from the other. The decline was 
so gradual that there was an inevitable blending of the two. 
We perceive evident signs of decline in the fourth stage, while, 
in the fifth, or stage of decline, we sometimes meet some noble 
works of art partaking of the perfect style of the earlier periods. 
A period of decline inevitably and invariably follows an age of 
maturity and perfection. As Mr. Lecky observes, “ The sculptor 
and the painter of the age of Praxiteles precipitated art into 
sensuality; both of them destroyed its religious character, both 
of them raised it to high aesthetic perfection, but in both cases 
that perfection was followed by a speedy decline.” Muller re¬ 
marks, u The creative activity, the real central point of the en¬ 
tire activity of art, which fashions peculiar forms for peculiar 
ideas, must have flagged in its exertions when the natural circle 
of ideas among the Greeks had received complete plastic embodi¬ 
ment, or it must have been morbidly driven to abnormal inven¬ 
tions. We find, therefore, that art, during this period, with 
greater or less degrees of skill in execution, delighted now in 
fantastical, now in effeminate productions, calculated merely to 
charm the senses. And even in the better and nobler works of 
the time there was still on the whole something—not, indeed, 
very striking to the eye, but which could be felt by the natural 
sense, something which distinguished them from the earlier 
works—the striving after effects The spirit of imitation 
marked the later portion of this period of decline. The sculp¬ 
tors of this age, despairing of equaling the productions of the 
former age, gave themselves up completely to servile imitation. 
The imitation was naturally inferior to the original, and each 
succeeding attempt at imitation was but a step lower in degra- 




ROMAN ART. 


691 


elation of the art. When they ceased to study nature they 
thought to repair the deterioration of the beauty of form by the 
finish of the parts, and in a still later period they gave, instead 
of a grandeur of style, an exaggeration of form. Lastly, being 
utterly unable to cope with their predecessors in the sculpture 
of statues, they had recourse to the manufacture of busts and 
portraits, which they executed in countless numbers. The art 
reached its lowest ebb, and thus the cycle of the development' of 
Greek sculpture terminated in its last stage—utter decay and 
degradation. 


Roman .—In the very early periods the Romans imitated the 
Etruscans, for, generally speaking, all the works of the first 
periods of Rome were executed by Etruscan artists. Their 
earliest statues of gods were in clay. Etruscan art exercised 
the greatest influence in Rome, for Rome was adorned with 
monuments of Etruscan art, in its very infancy; it was a Tuscan 
called Veturius Mamurius who made the shields (ancilia) of the 
temple of Numa, and who made, in bronze, the statue of Ver- 
tumna, a Tuscan deity, in the suburb of Rome. The Romans 
owed all their culture to the Etruscans, from whom they learned 
the arts of architecture, terra-cotta work, and painting; calling in 
artists of that more tasteful race when anything of that sort was 
required for the decoration of their simple edifices. The most 
ancient monuments of Rome thus corresponded with the con¬ 
temporaneous style of Etruscan art; there is thus a similarity in 
the figures; the attributes alone can lead one to distinguish them, 
as these attributes tell if the statue was connected with the 
creed or modes of belief of Etruria or Rome. There was not, 
therefore, any Roman style, properly so called; the only distinc¬ 
tion to be remarked is that the statues of the early periods, exe¬ 
cuted by the Romans, are characterized, like the Romans them¬ 
selves of the same period, by a beard and long hair. At a late 
period all the architecture, all the sculpture of the public edifices 



692 


FINE ARTS. 


at Rome, were in the Tuscan style, according to the testimony 
of Pliny. 

After the second Punic war, Greek artists took the place of 
Etruscan artists at Rome; the taking of Syracuse gave the 
Romans a knowledge of the beautiful works of Greece, and the 
treasures of art brought from Corinth chiefly contributed to 
awaken a taste among them, and they soon turned into ridicule 
their ancient statues in clay; Greek art was gradually transferred 
to Rome; Greek artists began to abound there, and the history 
of Roman art was thenceforward confounded with that of the 
vicissitudes of Greek art. The style of the works of sculpture 
under the first Emperors may be considered as a continuation and 
sequel of the development of Greek sculpture. These works, 
more particularly the portrait statues, which were the prevailing 
works of this period, exhibit a great deal of force and character, 
though a want of care is visible in some parts, especial}}’ in the 
hair. The characters of the heads always bear out the descrip¬ 
tions which historians have given of the person they belong to, 
the Roman head differing essentially from the Greek, in having 
a more arched forehead, a nose more aquiline, and features alto¬ 
gether of a more decided character. It may be observed, how¬ 
ever, as a general remark, that the Roman statues are of a 
thicker and more robust form, with less ease and grace, more 
stern, and of a less ideal expression than Greek statues, though 
equally made by Greek artists. Under Augustus, and the fol¬ 
lowing Roman Emperors, to meet the demand for Greek statues 
to embellish their houses and villas, several copies and imitations 
of celebrated Greek works were manufactured by the sculptors 
of the age. The Apollo Belvidere, the Venus of the Capitol, 
and several copies of celebrated Greek works, in various 
Museums, such as the Faun, Cupid, Apollo Sauroctonos, and 
Venus of Praxiteles, the Discobolos of Myron, and several 
works of Scopas and Lysippus, are supposed to be of this age. 


COPIES OF ANCIENT GODS. 


6 93 


Archaeologists are now generally agreed in thinking that the 
Apollo Belvidere is only a copy of a Roman period of a very 
fine Greek statue of about the beginning of the third century B. 
C., and that the original was in bronze. Another copy has been 
identified in a bronze statuette now in St. Petersburg, known as 
the Stroganoff Apollo. From this statuette it is found that the 
Apollo Belvidere held forward in his left hand, not a bow as was 
thought, but the cegis, in the attitude of spreading consternation 
among an enemy. The production of this statue is generally 
assigned to the period after the invasion of the Gauls, whom, in 
278 B. C., the god drove in alarm from his sanctuary, at Delphi. 
(A cut of Apollo Belvidere is seen on page 495.) 

Of the Faun of Praxiteles there are two copies in the Vati¬ 
can, but both are inferior to that in the Capitol. A copy of the 
Cupid of Praxiteles is in the British Museum. Of the Apollo 
Sauroctonos there are two copies, one in the Vatican, and an¬ 
other in bronze in the Villa Albani. Of the Venus of Cnidos of 
Praxiteles there are several copies in the Vatican; one in partic¬ 
ular, in the Chiaramonte Gallery, No. 112, though very inferior 
as a work of art, gives the exact pose of the original statue as it 
appears on the coin of Cnidos. The Venus of the Capitol is a 
Roman version of the Praxitelean statue; it differs in attitude. 
Several copies of the Discobolos of Myron are still in existence: 
one in the British Museum, one in the Vatican, and a third, much 
finer than either of the others, in the possession of Prince Mas¬ 
simo. A very fine marble copy of the celebrated bronze of Lysip¬ 
pus is in the Vatican. A copy of the Pythian Apollo by Scopas 
is in the same museum. 

The noble statue of Augustus, discovered in 1863, and now 
in the Vatican, is a grand example of the portrait statues of this 
period. It is full of life and individuality. The pose is simple 
and majestic, as befitting the portrait of an Emperor. The bust 
of the young Augustus in the Vatican for depth of expression, 


694 


FINE ARTS. 


individuality, truth to nature, and delicacy of finish and treat¬ 
ment, is a marvel in portraiture. 

Under Tiberius and Claudius a limit was placed to the right 
of having statues exposed in public; consequently a lesser num¬ 
ber of statues were made, and less attention was paid to the per¬ 
fection of the portrait. However, some excellent works were 
produced in this period. The style became purer and more 
refined under Hadrian, for a partial revival of Greek art is at¬ 
tributed to this Emperor. The hair was carefully worked, the 
eyebrows were raised, the pupils were indicated by a deep cavity 
—an essential characteristic of this age, rare before this period, 
and frequently introduced afterwards; the heads required greater 
strength, without, however, increasing in character. Of the 
most remarkable productions of the age of Hadrian are the 
numerous repetitions of the statue of Antinous, an ideal portrait 
of Hadrian’s favorite, exhibiting much artistic perfection. That 
in the Capitol is remarkable, not only for its exceeding beauty, 
but also for its correct anatomy. Of the Emperor Hadrian 
there is a fine portrait statue in the British Museum. Under the 
Antonines, the decay of the art was still more manifest, display¬ 
ing a want of simplicity, and an attention in trivial and meretri¬ 
cious accessories. Thus, in the busts, the hair and the beard 
luxuriate in an exaggerated profusion of curls, the careful expres¬ 
sion of features of the countenance being at the same time 
frequently neglected. This age was remarkable also for its 
recurrence to the style of a primitive and imperfect art in the 
reproduction of Egyptian statues. 




















Mosaic, opus musivum, is a kind of painting made with 
minute pieces of colored substances, generally either marble or 
natural stones, or else glass, more or less opaque, and of every 
variety of hue which the subject may require, set in very fine 
cement, and which thus form pictures of different kinds, rival¬ 
ing in color and hue those painted by the brush. 

Early nations knew the art of mosaic, and it is supposed to 
derive its origin from Asia, where paintings of this kind were 
composed, in imitation of the beautiful carpets manufactured at 
all periods in those countries. The Egyptians employed it very 
probably for different purposes; no traces of it have, however, 
been found in the temples or palaces the ruins of which remain. 
There is in the Egyptian collection at Turin a fragment of a 
mummy case, the paintings of which are executed in mosaic 
with wonderful precision and truth. The material is enamel, 
the colors are of different hues, and their variety renders with 
perfect truth, the plumage of birds. It is believed to be the only 
example of Egyptian mosaic. 

The Greeks carried the art of mosaic to the highest perfec¬ 
tion, assuming after the time of Alexander an importance which 
entitled it to be ranked as an independent art. Skillfully manag¬ 
ing the hues, and giving to the figures in their compositions an 
exquisite harmony, they resembled at a slight distance real paint¬ 
ings. Different names were given to the mosaics, according as 
they were executed in pieces of marble of a certain size; it was 
then lithostroton , opus sectile; or in small cubes, in this case it 
was called opus tessellation, or vermiculatum . The name of 

695 











696 


FINE ARTS. 


asaroton was given to a mosaic destined to adorn the pavement 
of a dining hall. It was supposed to represent an unswept hall, 
on the pavement ot which the crumbs and remains of the lepast 
which fell from the table still remained. It was said to be 
introduced by Sosus ol Pergamus, the first mosaic artist of com 
sequence of whom we hear. 



MOSAIC I LOOK 

Mosaic was used to adorn the pavements, walls, and ceilings 
of public and private edifices. The Greeks in general preferred 
marble to every other material. A bed of mortar was prepared, 
which served as a base, which was covered with a very fine 
cement. The artist, having before him the colored design which 
he was to execute, fixed the colored cubes in the cement, and 
polished the entire surface when it had hardened, taking care. 



















































MOSAIC SUBJECTS. 


697 


however, that too great a polish, by its reflection, might not mar 
the general effect of his work. The great advantage of mosaic 
is that it resists humidity, and all which could change the colors 
and the beauty of painting. Painting could not be employed in 
the pavement of buildings, and mosaics gave them an appearance 
of great elegance. The mosaic of the Capitol, found in Ha¬ 
drian’s Villa, may give an idea of the perfection which the 



MOSAIC DOVES. 

Greeks attained to in that art. It represents a vase full of water, 
on the sides of which are four doves, one of which is in the act 
of drinking. It is supposed by some to be the mosaic of Perga- 
mus mentioned by Pliny. It is entirely composed of cubes of 
marble, without any admixture of colored glass. Mosaic of this 
kind may be considered as the most ancient; it was only by 
degrees that the art of coloring marble, enamel, and glass multi¬ 
plied the materials suited for mosaics, and rendered their execu- 



















































698 


FINE ARTS. 


tion much more easy. It was then carried to a very high degree 
of perfection. The mosaic found at Pompeii, which represents 
three masked figures playing on different instruments, with a 
child near them, is of the most exquisite workmanship. It is 
formed of very small pieces of glass, of the most beautiful colors, 
and of various shades. The hair, the small leaves which orna¬ 
ment the masks, and the eyebrows, are most delicately expressed. 
What enhances the value of this mosaic is the name of the artist 
worked in it—Dioscorides of Samos. Another mosaic found at 
Pompeii is the beautiful one of Acratus on a Panther. The sub¬ 
jects represented in mosaics are in endless variety, and generally 
are derived from mythology or heroic myths. . Landscapes and 
ornaments in borders, in frets, in compartments, intermingled 
with tritons, nereides, centaurs, are to be found on them. The 
principal subject is in the center, the rest serves as a bordering 
or framework. In the Greek tessellated pavement found at 
Halicarnassus, the mosaic is of very fine workmanship, being 
composed of small cubes of white, black and red marble. 

Another and a still more remarkable mosaic Was discovered 
in the House of the Faun, and is perhaps the most beautiful 
and magnificent specimen of the art that has yet been found. 
This mosaic, which is now preserved in the museum at Naples, 
is about eighteen feet long by nine broad. The subject repre¬ 
sents a battle between Greeks and barbarians, the latter appar¬ 
ently of eastern race; but a variety of conjectures have been 
hazarded as to what battle is actually depicted. Some have 
seen in it the combat between Patroclus and Sarpedon, and the 
death of the latter; others have recognized in it the battles of 
the Granicus, of Arbela, of Plataea, of Marathon, etc. But the 
opinion most commonly adopted is that of Professor Quaranta 
who refers the picture to the battle of Issus. The Grecian 
leader, supposed to represent Alexander the Great, is drawn with 
great beauty and vigor. Charging, bareheaded, in the midst of 


BATTLE REPRESENTED IN MOSAICS. 699 

the fight, he has transfixed with his lance one of the Persian 
leaders, whose horse, wounded in the shoulder, had already 
fallen. The expression of physical agony in the countenance of 
the wounded man is admirably depicted. Another horse, which 
an attendant had brought for him, has arrived too late. The 
death of the Persian general has evidently decided the fortune 
of the day. In the background, the Persian spears are still 
directed against the advancing Greeks. But at the sight of the 
fallen general, another Persian leader in a quadriga, who, from 
the richness of his dress and accoutrements, the height of his 
tiara, and his red chlamys, is probably Darius himself, stretches 
forth'his right hand in an attitude of alarm and despair, while 
the charioteer urges his horses to precipitate flight. Nothing 
can exceed the vigor with which both men and animals are 
depicted in this unequaled mosaic. If the Grecian hero really 
represents Alexander the Great, the mosaic may probably be a 
copy of a picture by Appelles, the only artist privileged to paint 
the Macedonian conqueror. It is unfortunate that the work has 
suffered much damage on the left side, or that which contains 
the Grecian host. It was, however, in this mutilated state when 
discovered, and seems to have been under a process of repara¬ 
tion. The border represents a river, apparently the Nile, with a 
crocodile, hippopotamus, ichneumon, ibises, etc.; whence some 
have been led to think that the mosaic is a copy of a picture 
on the same subject known to have been painted by a female 
Egyptian artist named Helena, and brought to Rome by Vespa¬ 
sian. 

Painted floors were first used by the Greeks, who made and 
colored them with much care, until they were driven out by the 
mosaic floors called lithostrota . The most famous workman in 
this kind was Sosus, who wrought at Pergamus the pavement 
which is called asarotus oikos , the unswept hall, made of quar¬ 
rels or square tesserse of different colors, in such a way as to 


FINE ARTS. 


700 

resemble the crumbs and scraps that fell from the table, and 
such-like things as usually are swept away, as if they were still 
left by negligence upon the pavement. There also is admirably 
represented a dove drinking, in such a way that the shadow of 
her head is cast on the water. Other doves are seen sitting on 
the rim of the vessel preening themselves and basking in the sun. 
The first paved floors which came into use were those called 
barbarica and subtegulanea, which were beaten down with ram¬ 
mers, as may be known by the name pavimentum, from pavire, 
to ram. The pavements called scalpturata were first introduced 
into Italy in the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, after the begin¬ 
ning of the third Punic war. But ere the Cimbric wars Began, 
such pavements were in common use at Rome, and men took 
great delight and pleasure therein. 

For galleries and terraces open to the sky, they were devised 
by the Greeks, who, enjoying a warm climate, used to cover 
their houses with them; but where the rain waters freeze, pave¬ 
ments of this sort are not to be trusted. To make a terrace of 
this sort, it is necessary to lay two courses of boards, one 
athwart the other, the ends of which ought to be nailed, that they 
should not twist nor warp; which done take two parts of new 
rubbish, and one of tiles stamped to powder; then with other 
three parts of old rubbish mix two parts of lime, and herewith 
lay a bed of a foot thickness, taking care to ram it hard together. 
Over this must be laid a bed of mortar, six fingers thick, and 
upon this middle couch, large paving-tiles, at least two fingers 
deep. This sort of pavement is to be made to rise to the center 
in the proportion of one inch and a-half to ten feet. Being thus 
laid, it is to be planed and polished diligently with some hard 
stone; but, above all, regard is to be had that the boarded floor 
be made of oak. As for such as do start or warp any way, they 
be thought naught. Moreover, it were better to lay a course of 
flint or chaff between it and the lime, to the end that the lime 


GRANDEUR OF STYLE 


701 


may not have so much force to hurt 
It were also well to put at the bottom 


the board underneath it. 
a bed of round pebbles. 



MM 


pr 


tsttta.vA\ 








Fr-r-Ir 

§1111 



APOLLO CHARMING NATURE. 

And here we must not forget another kind of these pave¬ 
ments which are called Graecanica, the manner of which is this: 










































































702 


FINE ARTS. 


Upon a floor well beaten with rammers, is laid a bed of rubbish, 
or else broken tile-shards, and then upon it a couch of charcoal, 
well beaten, and driven close together, with sand, and lime, and 
small cinders, well mixed together, to the thickness of half a 
foot, well leveled; and this has the appearance of an earthen 
floor; but, if it be polished with a hard smooth stone, the whole 
pavement will seem all black. As for those pavements called 
lithostrota, which are made of divers colored squares or dice, 
they came into use in Sylla’s time, who made one at Prseneste, 
in the temple of Fortune, which pavement remains to be seen 
at this day. 

It may be remarked here, that the Roman villa at North- 
leigh, in Oxfordshire, examined and described by Mr. Hakewill, 
abounded with beautiful pavements. The substratum of one of 
these, which had been broken, was investigated, when it was 
found that the natural soil had been removed to a depth of near 
seven feet, and the space filled up with materials which bear a 
near resemblance to those which Pliny recommends. 

A specimen of the coarser sort of mosaic pavement is to be 
seen in the Townley Gallery, in the British Museum. 















The perfection which the Greeks attained in literature and 
art is one of the most striking features in the history of the peo¬ 
ple. Their intellectual activity and their keen appreciation of 
the beautiful constantly gave birth to new forms of creative 
genius. There was an uninterrupted progress in the develop¬ 
ment of the Grecian mind from the earliest dawn of the history 
of the people to the downfall of their political independence, and 
each succeeding age saw the production of some of those master 
works of genius which have been the models and admiration of 
all subsequent time. 

The poets were the popular writers of ancient Greece; prose 
writers appear no earlier than the sixth century before the Chris¬ 
tian era, at which time the first literary prose essay was pro¬ 
duced, for which three contemporary authors claim the honor. 
The Greeks had arrived at a high degree of civilization before 
they can be said to have possessed a history of their own. 
Nations far behind them in intellectual development have infin¬ 
itely excelled them in this respect. The imagination seems to 
have been entirely dazzled and fascinated with the glories of the 
heroic ages, and to have taken but little interest in the events 
which were daily passing around them. Poetry constitutes the 
chief part of early Greek literature. We give specimens of 
both Greek poetry and prose. We will not attempt to give 
specimens of all, but only such as are considered, by common 
consent, the best. 


7°3 












LITERATURE. 


7°4 


HOMEF(. 

Seven cities have contested for the honor of the birth-place 
of Homer. It is now generally agreed that he was born about 
950 B. C., in the City of Melesigenes. 

It is not a little strange that nothing should be known with 
certainty of the parentage or of the birth-place, or even of the 
era of the greatest poet of antiquity, of him who, next to Milton, 
ranks as the greatest epic poet of the world. In two respects, 
all the accounts concerning him agree—that he had traveled 
much, and that he was afflicted with blindness. From the first 
circumstance, it has been inferred that he was either rich or en¬ 
joyed the patronage of the wealthy; but this will not appear 
necessary when it is considered that, in his time, journeys were 
usually performed on foot, and that he probably traveled, with a 
view to his support, as an itinerant musician or reciter. From 
most of the traditions respecting him, it appears that he was 
poor, and it is to be feared that necessity, rather than the mere 

desire of gratifying curiosity, prompted his wanderings. All 

% 

that has been advanced respecting the occasion of his blindness 
is mere conjecture. Certain it is, that this misfortune arose 
from accident or disease, and not from the operation of nature 
at his birth; for the character of his compositions seems rather 
to suppose him all eye, than destitute of sight; and if they were 
even framed during his blindness, they form a glorious proof of 
the vivid power of the imagination more than supplying the 
want of the bodily organs, and not merely throwing a variety of 
its own tints over the objects of nature, but presenting them to 
the mind in a clearer light than could be shed over them by one 
whose powers of immediate vision were perfectly free from 
blemish. 

Of the incidents in the life of Homer, almost as little is 



HOMER. 


7 °S 


known as of his parentage and birth-place. However, the gen¬ 
eral account is that he was for many years a school-master in 
Smyrna; that, being visited by one Mentes, the commander of a 
Leucadian ship, he was induced by him to leave his occupation 
and travel; that, in company with this captain, he visited the 
various countries around the shores of the Mediterranean, and at 
last was left at Ithaca, in consequence of a weakness in his eyes. 
While in this island, he was entertained by a man of fortune 
named Mentor, who narrated to him the stories upon which after¬ 
wards the Odyssey was founded. On the return of Mentes, he 
accompanied him to Colophon, where he became totally blind. 
He then returned to Smyrna, and afterwards removed to Cyme 
(called also Cuma), in FEolis, where he received great applause 
in the recitations of his poems, but no pecuniary reward; the 
people alleging that they could not maintain all the Homeroi, or 
blind men , and hence he obtained the name of Homer. Thence 
he went about from place to place, acquiring much wealth by his 
recitations, and died at the Island of Ios, one of the Cyclades, 
where he was buried. 

The works attributed to Homer consist of the two epic 
poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey , of twenty-four books each, 
the Batrachomyomachia , or u Battle of the Frogs and Mice, 11 a 
humorous, mock-heroic poem, and somewhat of a parody on the 
Iliad; the Margites , a satirical, personal satire, and about thirty 
Hymns. All of these but the two great epics are now, however, 
considered as spurious. 

But it was left to modern skepticism (which seems to think 
that to doubt shows a higher order of intellect than to believe on 
evidence) to maintain the bold position that the “ Iliad 11 and the 
“ Odyssey 11 were a collection of separate lays by different au¬ 
thors, arranged and put together for the first time during the 
tyranny and by the order of Pisistratus, at Athens, about 550 B. 
C. The chief supporters of this theory are the celebrated Ger- 

45 


706 


LITERATURE. 


man scholars, Wolf and Heyne, who flourished about the year 
1800. 

Those who may desire to go into the subject fully will read 
Wolf’s “Prolegomena,” and the strictures of his great opponent, 
G. W. Nitzsch; but a succinct account of the argument may be 
found in Browne’s “ Classical Literature,” and in the “History 
of Greek Literature,” by Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd. 

Even Wolf himself candidly declares that when he reads 
the “ Iliad” he finds such unity of design, such harmony of color¬ 
ing, and such consistency of character, that he is ready to give 
up his theories, and to be angry with himself for doubting the 
common faith in the personality of Homer. 

Professor Felton, in his excellent edition of the “ Iliad,” 
thus remarks in the preface: “ For my part, I prefer to consider 
it, as we have received it from ancient editors, as one poem, the 
work of one author, and that author Homer—the first and 
greatest of minstrels. As I understand the 4 Iliad,’ there is a 
unity of plan, a harmony of parts, a consistency among the dif¬ 
ferent situations of the same character, which mark it as the 
production of one mind; but of a mind as versatile as the forms 
of nature, the aspects of life, and the combinations of powers, 
propensities and passions in man are various.” In these views, 
the literary world now very generally concurs. 

“ The hypothesis to which the antagonists of Homer’s per¬ 
sonality must resort implies something more wonderful than the 
theory which they impugn. They profess to cherish the deepest 
veneration for the genius displayed in the poems. They agree, 
also, in the antiquity usually assigned to them; and they make 
this genius and this antiquity the arguments to prove that one 
man could not have composed them. They suppose, then, that 
in a barbarous age, instead of one being marvelously gifted, 
there were many; a mighty race of bards, such as the world has 
never since seen—a number of miracles instead of one. All ex- 




HOMER. 


7°7 

perience is against this opinion. In various periods of the world 

t 

great men have arisen, under very different cireumstances, to 
astonish and delight it; but that the intuitive power should be so 
strangely diffused, at any one period, among a great number, 
who should leave no successors behind them, is unworthy of 
credit. And we are requested to believe this to have occurred 
in an age which those who maintain the theory regard as un¬ 
favorable to the poetic art! The common theory, independent 
of other proofs, is prima facie the most probable. Since the 
early existence of the works can not be doubted, it is easier to 
believe in one than in twenty Homers.”— Talfourd . 


OPEJNipQ AflQUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 

(By Homer.) 

Achilles’ wrath, to Greece the direful spring 
Of woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess sing! 

That wrath which hurl’d to Pluto’s gloomy reign 
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain; 

Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore, 

Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore; 

Since great Achilles and Atrides strove. 

Such was the sov’reign doom, and such the will of Jove. 

Pope. 


JVIINERVA ARMINQ HEf^BELp pop BATTLE. 

(By Homer.) 

Minerva wrapt her in the robe that curiously she wove 
With glorious colors, as she sate on th’ azure floor of Jove; 

And wore the arms that he puts on, bent to the tearful field. 

About her broad-spread shoulders hung his huge and horrid shield, 
Fring’d round with ever-fighting snakes; though it was drawn to life 
The miseries and deaths of fight; in it frown'd bloody Strife; 




708 


LITERATURE. 


In it shin’d sacred Fortitude; in it fell Pursuit flew; 

In it the monster Gorgon’s head, in which held out to view 
Were all the dire ostents of Jove; on her big head she plac’d 
His four-plum’d glittering casque of gold, so admirably vast, 

It would an hundred garrisons of soldiers comprehend. 

Then to her shining chariot her vigorous feet ascend; 

And in her violent hand she takes his grave, huge, solid lance, 

With which the conquests of her wrath she useth to advance, 

And overturn whole 1 fields of men; to show she was the seed 
Of him that thunders. Then heaven’s queen,'to urge her horses’speed, 
Takes up the scourge, and forth they fly; the ample gates of heaven 
Rung, and flew open of themselves; the charge whereof is given, 

With all Olympus and the sky, to the distinguish’d Hours; 

That clear or hide it all in clouds, or pour it down in showers. 

This way their scourge-obeying horse made haste, and soon they won 
The top of all the topful heavens, where aged Saturn’s son 
Sate severed from the other gods. 

Chapman's translation , v. 


PARTINQ OF HECTOR AflD AflDF^OMACHE. 

(By Homer.') 

Hector now pass’d, with sad presaging heart, 

To seek his spouse, his soul’s far dearer part; 

At home he sought her, but he sought in vain: 

She, with one maid of all her menial train, 

Had thence retired; and with her second joy, 

The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy: 

Pensive she stood on Ilion’s towery height, 

Beheld the war, and sicken’d at the sight; 

There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore, 

Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore. 

Hector this heard, return’d without delay; 

Swift through the town he trod his former way, 

Through streets of palaces and walks of state, 

And met the mourner at the Scaean gate. 

With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair, 

His blameless wife, Aetion’s wealthy heir. 




ANCIENT AUTHORS 


709 






























































































































710 


LITERATURE. 






The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press’d, 
His only hope hung smiling at her breast; 

Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn, 

Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn. 
Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign’d 
To tender passions all his mighty mind: 

His beauteous princess cast a mournful look, 

Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke; 

Her bosom labor’d with a boding sigh, 

And the big tear stood trembling in her eve. 

“ Too darling prince! ah, whither dost thou run? 
Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son! 

And think’st thou not how wretched we shall be, 
A widow I, a helpless orphan he! 

For sure such courage length of life denies, 

And thou must fall, thy virtues sacrifice. 

Greece in her single heroes strove in vain; 

Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain! 
Oh grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his doom, 
All I can ask of heaven, an early tomb! 

So shall my days in one sad tenor run, 

And end with sorrows as they first begun. 

No parent now remains my griefs to share, 

No father’s aid, no mother’s tender care. 

The fierce Achilles wrapp’d our walls in fire, 

Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire! 

By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell, 

In one sad day beheld the gates of hell. 

My mother lived to bear the victor’s bands, 

The queen of Hippoplacia’s sylvan lands. 

Yet, while my Hector still survives, I see 
My father, mother, brethren, all in thee: 

Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all 
Once more will perish, if my Hector fall. 

Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: 

O, prove a husband’s and a father’s care! 

That quarter most the skillful Greeks annoy, 
Where yon wild fig-trees join the walls of Troy; 
Thou from this tower defend the important post; 




HOMER. 


7 11 


There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, 

That passTydides, Ajax, strive to gain. 

And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. 

Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, 

Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven. 

Let others in the field their arms employ, 

But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy.” 

The chief replied: “ That post shall be my care, 

Nor that alone, but all the works of war. 

How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown’d, 

And Troy’s proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground, 
Attaint the lustre of my former name, 

Should Hector basely quit the field of fame? 

My early youth was bred to martial pains, 

My soul impels me to the embattled plains; 

Let me be foremost to defend the throne, 

And guard my father’s glories and my own. 

Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates; 

(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) 

The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, 

Must see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. 

And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind, 

My mother’s death, the ruin of my kind, 

Not Priam’s hoary hairs defiled with gore, 

Not all my brothers gasping on the shore, 

As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread; 

I see the trembling, weeping, captive led! 

In Argive looms our battles to design, 

And woes of which so large a part was thine! 

To bear the victor’s hard commands, or bring 
The weight of waters from Hyperia’s spring. 

There, while you groan beneath the load of life, 

They cry, 4 Behold the mighty Hector’s wife!’ 

Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, 

Embitters all thy svoes by naming me. 

The thoughts of glory past, and present shame, 

A thousand griefs shall waken at the name! 

May I lie cold before that dreadful day, 

Press’d with a load of monumental clay! 


712 


LITERATURE. 


Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, 

Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep ” 
Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy 
Stretch’d his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. 
The babe clung crying to his nurse’s breast, 

Sacred at the dazzling helm and nodding crest. 
With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled, 

And Hector hasted to relieve his child; 

The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, 
And placed the gleaming helmet on the ground. 
Then kiss’d the child, and, lifting high in air, 

Thus to the gods preferr’d a father’s prayer:— 

“O, thou whose glory fills the ethereal throne! 
And all ye deathless poivers, protect my son! 
Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, 

To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown; 
Against his country’s foes the war to wage, 

And rise the Hector of the future age! 

So when, triumphant from successful toils 
Of heroes slain, he bears the reeking spoils, 

Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, 
And say, ‘This chief transcends his father’s fame;’ 
While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy, 
His mother’s conscious heart o’erflows with joy.” 

He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, 
Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; 

Soft on her fragrant breast the babe he laid, 
Hush’d to repose, and with a smile survey’d. 

The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, 

She mingled with the smile a tender tear. 

The soften’d chief with kind compassion view’d, 
And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued:— 

“ Andromache, my soul’s far better part, 

Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? 

No hostile hand can antedate my doom, 

Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. 

Fix’d is the term to all the race of earth; 

And such the hard condition of our birth, 

No force can then resist, no flight can save; 


HOMER. 


7 l 3 

All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. 

No more—but hasten to thy tasks at home, 

There guide the spindle, and direct the loom; 

Me glory summons to the martial scene, 

The field of combat is the sphere for men; 

Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, 

The first in danger, as the first in fame.” 

Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes 
His towery helmet black with shading plumes. 

His princess parts, with a prophetic sigh, 

Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye, 

That stream’d at every look; then, moving slow, 

Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe. 

There, while her tears deplored the god-like man, 

Through all her train the soft infection ran, 

The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed, 

And mourn the living Hector as the dead. 

Pope , Iliad , vi. 


THE RACE OF JV1AN. 

C By Homer.) 

Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, 

Now green in youth, now withering on the ground: 
Another race the following spring supplies; 

They fall successive, and successive rise: 

So generations in their course decay; 

So flourish these when those are past away. 

Pope , Iliad , vi. 


COUNCIL Of THE QODf. 

{By Homer.) 

Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, 
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn; 
When Jove convened the senate of the skies, 
Where high Olympus’ cloudly tops arise. 




7H 


LITERATURE. 


The Sire of Gods his awful silence broke, 

The heavens attentive trembled as he spoke:— 

“ Celestial states, immortal gods, give ear! 

Hear our decree, and reverence what ye hear; 

The fix’d decree, which not all heaven can move; 

Thou, Fate, fulfill it; and ye, Powers, approve! 

What god but enters yon forbidden field, 

Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield, 

Back to the skies with shame he shall be driven, 

Gash’d with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heaven: 

Or far, oh far, from steep Olympus thrown, 

Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan, 

With burning chains fix’d to the brazen floors, 

% 

And lock’d by hell’s inexorable doors; 

As deep beneath the infernal center hurl’d, 

As from that center to the ethereal world. 

Let him who tempts me dread those dire abodes, 

And know the Almighty is the god of gods. 

League all your forces, then, ye powers above, 

Join all, and try the omnipotence of Jove: 

Let down our golden everlasting chain, 

Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth, and main; 
Strive all, of mortal and immortal birth, 

To drag, by this, the Thunderer down to earth: 

Ye strive in vain! If I but stretch this hand, 

I heave the gods, the ocean, and the land; 

I fix the chain to great Olympus’ height, 

And the vast world hangs trembling in my sight! 

For such I reign, unbounded and above; 

And such are men and gods, compared to Jove.” 

Pope, Iliad, viii. 


NIQHT'^CEJME. 

(By Homer.) 

The troops exulting sat in order round, 

And beaming fires illumined all the ground. 
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night! 



HOMER. 




7*5 


O’er heaven’s clear azure spreads her sacred light, 
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, 

And not a efloud o’ercasts the solemn scene; 

Around her throne the vivid planets roll, 

And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole, 

O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, 

And tip with silver every mountain’s head; 

Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, 

A flood of glory bursts from all the skies: 

The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, 

Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. 

So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, 

And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays: 

The long reflections of the distant fires 
Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires. 

Pope, Iliad , viii. 


HATEJ7ULNE£2 OF WAT 

(.By Uomer.) 

Cursed is the man, and void of law and right, 

Unworthy property, unworthy light, 

Unfit for public rule, or private care; 

That wretch, that monster, who delights in war: 

Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy 
To tear his country, and his kind destroy! 

Pope , Iliad , ix. 


FALSEHOOD. 

(By Homer.) 

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, 
My heart detests him as the gates of hell. 


Pope , Iliad , ix. 




716 


LITERATURE. 


J5HOWJERj5 Of A^^0W5. 

(By Homer.') 

As the feathery snows 

Fall frequent on some wintry day, when Jove 
Hath risen to shed them on the race of man, 

And show his arrowy stores; he lulls the wind. 

Then shakes them down continual, covering thick 
Mountain tops, promontories, flowery meads, 

And cultured valleys rich, and ports and shores 
Along the margined deep; but there the wave 
Their further progress stays; while all besides 
Lies whelm’d beneath Jove’s fast-descending shower; 

So thick, from side to side, by Trojans hurled 
Against the Greeks, and by the Greeks returned, 

The stony volleys flew. 

Cowper , Iliad , xii. 


PF(IAM BEQQINQ THE BODY Of HECTOFJ. 

(By Homer.) 

“ Think, O Achilles, semblance of the gods, 

On thine own father, full of days like me, 

And trembling on the gloomy verge of life. 

Some neighbor chief, it may be, even now 
Oppresses him, and there is none at hand, 

No friend to succor him in his distress. 

Yet, doubtless, hearing that Achilles lives, 

He still rejoices, hoping day by day, 

That one day he shall see the face again 
Of his own son, from distant Troy returned. 

But me no comfort cheers, whose bravest sons, 

So late the flowers of Ilium, are all slain. 

When Greece came hither, I had fifty sons; 

But fiery Mars hath thinn’d them. One I had, 

One, more than all my sons, the strength of Troy, 



HOMER. 


Whom, standing for his country, thou hast slain— 
Hector. His body to redeem I come 
Into Achaia’s fleet, bringing myself, 

Ransom inestimable to thy tent. 

Rev'rence the gods, Achilles! recollect 

Thy father; for his sake compassion show 

To me, more pitiable still, who draw 

Home to my lips (humiliation yet 

Unseen on earth) his hand who slew my son!” 

So saying, he waken’d in his soul regret 
Of his own sire; softly he placed his hand 
On Priam’s hand, and pushed him gently away. 
Remembrance melted both. Rolling before 
Achilles’ feet, Priam his son deplored, 
Wide-slaughtering Hector, and Achilles wept 
By turns his father, and by turns his friend 
Patroclus: sounds of sorrow fill’d the tent. 

Cowper, Iliad, 


HELE]\|’5 LAMENTATION OVER HECTOfl. 

(By Homer.) 

Grief fell on all around; 

Then Helen thus breathed forth her plaintive sound:— 
“Hector, to Helen’s soul more lov’d than all 
Whom I in Uion’s walls dare brother call, 

Since Paris here to Troy his consort led, 

Who in the grave had found a happier bed. 

’Tis now, since here I came, the twentieth year, 

Since left my land, and all I once held dear: 

But never from that hour has Helen heard 
From thee a harsh reproach or painful word; 

But if thy kindred blam’d me, if unkind 
The queen e’er glanc’d at Helen’s fickle mind— 

(For Priam, still benevolently mild, 

Look’d on me as a father views his child)— 

Thy gentle speech, thy gentleness of soul, 



718 


LITERATURE. 


Would by thine own, their harsher minds control. 

Hence, with a heart by torturing misery r6nt, 

Thee and my hapless self I thus lament; 

For no kind eye in Troy on Helen rests, 

But who beholds me shudders and detests.” 

Sotheby , Iliad , xxiv. 


We will here give a few pages of the history of the Trojan 
war, giving some of the characters, subjects, etc., referred to in 
the preceding poems in a prose story. 

* * PARIJ3, 

There was sorrow, instead of gladness, in the halls of 
Priam, because a son was born unto him, and because the lady 
Hecuba had dreamed a dream, from which the seers knew that 
the child should bring ruin on the Ilion land. So his mother 
looked with cold, unloving eyes on the babe as he lay weak and 
helpless in his cradle, and Priam bade them take the child and 
leave him on rugged Idfr, for the fountain of his love was closed 
against him. 

For live days the dew fell on the babe by night, and the 
sun shone fiercely on him by day, as he lay on the desolate hill¬ 
side, and the shepherd who placed him there to sleep the sleep 
of death looked upon the child and said, u He sleeps as babes 
may slumber on silken couches; the gods will it not that he 
should die . 11 So he took him to his home, and the child grew 
up with ruddy cheek and nimble feet, brave and hardy, so that 
none might be matched with him for strength and beauty. The 
fierce wolves came not near the flocks while Paris kept guard 
near the fold, the robber lurked not near the homestead when 
Paris sat by the hearth. So all sang of his strength and his 
great deeds, and they called him Alexandras, the helper of men. 



PARIS. 


7 : 9 

Many years he tended the flocks on woody Ida, but Priam, 
his father, dwelt in Ilion, and thought not to see his face again, 
and he said within himself, “ Surely my child is long since dead, 
and no feast has been given to the gods that Paris may dwell in 
peace in the dark kingdom of Hades.” Then he charged his 
servants to fetch him a bull from the herd, which might be given 
to the man who should conquer in the games, and they chose 
out one which Paris loved above all others that he drove out to 
pasture. So he followed the servants of Priam in grief and 
anger, and he stood forth and strove with his brethren in the 
games, and in all of them Paris was the conqueror. Then one 
of his brothers was moved with wrath, and lifted up his sword 
against him, but Paris fled to the altar of Zeus, and the voice 
of Cassandra, his sister, was heard saying, “ O blind of eye and 
heart, see ye not that this is Paris, whom ye sent to sleep the 
sleep of death on woody Ida?” 

But Paris would not dwell in the sacred Ilion, for he loved 
not those who sought to slay him while he was yet a helpless 
child, and again he tended the flocks on the wide plains and up 
the rough hillsides. Strong he was of limb and stout of heart, 
and his face shone with a marvelous beauty, so that they who 
saw it thought him fair as the bright heroes. There, as he 
wandered in the woody dells of Ida, he saw and wooed the beau¬ 
tiful CEnone, the child of the river-god, Kebren. Many a time 
he sat with the maiden by the side of the stream, and the sound 
of their voices was mingled with the soft murmur of the waters. 
He talked to her of love, and CEnone looked up with a wondrous 
joy into his beautiful face, when the morning dew glistened white 
upon the grass and when the evening star looked out upon the 
pale sky. 

So was Paris wedded to CEnone, and the heart of the 
maiden was full of happiness, for none was braver or more gentle 
—none so stout of heart, so lithe of limb, so tender and loving, 


720 


LITERATURE. 


as Paris. Thus passed the days away in a swift dream of joy, 
for CEnone thought not of the change that was coming. 

There was feasting and mirth among the gods and men, for 
the brave Peleus had won Thetis, the maiden of the sea, for his 
bride; and she rose from the depths of her coral caves to go to 
his home in Phthia. The banquet was spread in his ancient hall, 
and the goblets sparkled with the dark wine, for all the gods had 
come down from Olympus to share the feast in the house of 
Peleus. Only Eris was not bidden, for she was the child of 
War and Hatred, and they feared to see her face in the hours of 
laughter and mirth; but her evil heart rested not till she found a 
way to avenge herself for the wrong which they had done to 
her. 

The gods were listening to the song of Phoebus Apollo as 
he made sweet music on the strings of his harp, when a golden 
apple was cast upon the table before them. They knew not 
whence it came, only they saw that it was to be a gift for the 
fairest in that great throng, for so was it written on the apple. 
Then the joy of the feast was gone, and the music of the song 
ceased, for there was a strife which should have the golden prize; 
and Here, the Queen, said, u The gods themselves do obeisance 
to me when I enter the halls of Olympus, and men sing of the glory 
of my majesty; therefore must the gift be mine .’ 1 But Athene 
answered, and said, u Knowledge and goodness are better things 
than power; mine is the worthier title . 11 Then the fair Aphro¬ 
dite lifted her white arm, and a smile of triumph passed over her 
face as she said, “ I am the child of love and beauty, and the 
stars danced in the heaven for joy as I sprang from the sea foam; 
I dread not the contest, for to me alone must the golden gift be 
given . 11 

So the strife waxed hot in the banquet hall, till Zeus spake 
with a loud voice, and said, “ It needs not to strive now. Amid 
the pine forest of Ida dwells Paris, the fairest of the sons of men; 


PARIS. 


7 21 

let him be judge, and the apple shall be hers to whom he shall 
give it.” Then Hermes rose and led them quickly over land 
and sea, to go to the rough hillside where Paris wooed and won 
CEnone. 

Presently the messenger of Zeus stood before Paris, and 
said, “ Fairest of the sons of men, there is strife among the 
undying gods, for Here and Aphrodite and Athene seek each to 
have the golden apple which must be given to her who is 
most fair. Judge thou, therefore, between them when they 
come, and give peace again to the halls of Zeus.” 

In a dream of joy and love CEnone sate by the ^iver-side, 
and she looked on her own fair face, which was shown to her in 
a still calm pool where the power of the stream came not, and 
she said to herself, “ The gods are kind, for they have given to 
me a better gift than that of beauty, for the love of Paris sheds 
for me a wondrous beauty over the heaven above and the broad 
earth beneath.” Then came Paris, and said, “See, CEnone, 

dearest child of the bright waters, Zeus hath called me to be 

♦ 

judge in a weighty matter. Hither are coming Here, the 
Queen, and Aphrodite and Athene, seeking each the golden 
apple which must be given to her alone who is the fairest. Yet 
go not away, CEnone; the broad vine leaves have covered our 
summer bower; there tarry and listen to the judgment, where 
none may see thee.” 

So Paris sat in judgment, and Here spake to him, and said, 
“ I know I am the fairest, for none other has beauty and majesty 
like mine. Hearken, then, to me, and I will give thee power to 
do great deeds among the sons of men, and a name which the 
minstrels shall sing of among those who shall be born in long 
time to come.” But Athene answered, “Heed not her words, 
O Paris. Thy hand is strong and thy heart is pure, and the 
men among- whom thou dwellest honor thee even now because 
thou hast done them good. There are better things than power 

46 




722 


LITERATURE. 


and high renown; and if thou wilt hearken to me, I will give 
thee wisdom and strength; and pure love shall be thine, and the 
memory of happy.days when thou drawest near to the dark land 
of Hades.” 

Then Paris thought that he heard the voice of OEnone, and 
it seemed to whisper to him, u Wisdom and right are better than 
power, give it to Athene.” But Aphrodite gazed upon him 
with laughing eyes, as she came up closer to his side. Her dark 
curls fell waving over his shoulder, and he felt 'the breath from 
her rosy lips, as she laid her hand on his arm and whispered 
softly in his ear, u I talk not to thee of my beauty, for it may be 
thou seest that I am very fair, but hearken to me, and I will give 
thee for thy wife the fairest of all the daughters of men.” But 
Paris answered, u I need not thy gift, O child of the bright sea 
foam, for fairer wife than CEnone no mortal man may hope to 
have. Yet art thou the fairest of all the daughters of the undy¬ 
ing gods, and the gift of the fairest is thine.” 

So he placed the golden apple in the palm of her snow- 
white hand, and the touch of her slender fingers thrilled through 
the heart of Paris as she parted from him with smiling lip and 
laughing eye. But Here, the Queen, and Athene, the virgin 
child of Zeus, went away displeased, and evermore their wrath 
lay heavy on the city and land of Ilion. 

Then went Paris to CEnone, and he twined his arms around 
her and said, u Didst thou see the dark countenance of the lady 
Here when I gave to the fairest the gift which the fairest alone 
may have? Yet what care I for the wrath of Here and Athene? 
One smile from the lips of Aphrodite is better than their favor 
for a whole life long.” But CEnone answered sadly, u I would 
that thou mayest speak truly, Paris; yet in my eyes the lady 
Athene is fairer far, and Aphrodite is ever false as fair.” Then 
Paris clasped her closer in his arms and kissed her pale cheek, 
and said nothing. 


PARIS 


7 2 3 

But the fierce wrath of Eris was not ended yet. Far away 
in the western land, there was sore famine in the kingdom of 



the mighty Menelaus, the people died by the wayside, and the 
warriors had no strength to go forth to the battle or the hunts¬ 
men to the chase. Many times they sought to know the will 


LIBRARY OF HERCULANEUM. 









































































































































































































































































7 2 4 


LITERATURE. 


of the gods, but they heard only dark words for answers, till 
Phoebus Apollo said that the famine should never cease from the 
land until they brought from Ilion the bones of the children ot 
Prometheus, whom Zeus bound on the desolate crags of Cau¬ 
casus. So Menelaus, the King, departed from his home and 
went to the city of Priam. There he saw the beautiful Paris, 
and took him to the Spartan land, for he said that Paris should 
return home rich and wealthy. So Paris believed his words, 
and sailed with him over the wide sea. Long time he abode in 
Sparta, and day by day he saw the lady Helen in the halls of 
Menelaus. At the first he thought within himself, “I would 
that CEnone were here to see the wife of Menelaus, for surely 
she is fairer than aught else on the earth.” But soon he thought 
less and less of CEnone, who was sorrowing for his long sojourn 
in the strange land, as she wandered amid the pine forests of 
woody Ida. 

Quickly sped the days for Paris, for his heart was filled with 
a strange love, and the will of Eris was being accomplished 
within him. He thought not of CEnone and her lonely wander¬ 
ings on heathy Ida; he cared not lor the kindly deeds of Mene¬ 
laus; and so it came to pass that, when Menelaus was far away, 
Paris spoke words of evil love to Helen and beguiled her to 
leave her home. Stealthily they fled away, and sailed over the 
sea till they came to the Ilion land; and Helen dwelt with Paris 
in the house of his father, Priam. 

But CEnone mourned for the love which she had lost, and 
her tears fell into the gentle stream of Kebren as she sat on its 
grassy banks. “ Ah me,” she said, “ my love hath been stung 
by Aphrodite. O Paris, Paris! hast thou forgotten all thy 
words? Here thine arms were clasped around me, and here, as 
thy lips were pressed to mine, thou didst say that the wide earth 
had for thee no living thing so fair as CEnone. Sure am I that 
Helen hath brought to thee only a false joy; for her heart is not 


PARIS. 


7 2 5 ‘ 


thine as the heart of a maiden when it is given to her first love; 
and sure am I, too, that Helen is not a fairer wife than I, for my 
heart is all thine, and the beauty of woman is marred when she 
yields herself to a lawless love. But the cloud is gathering 
round thee; and I am sprung from the race of the gods, and 
mine eyes are opened to behold the things that willingly I would 
not see. I see the waters black with ships, and the hosts of the 
Achaians gathered round the walls of Ilion. I see the moons 
roll round, while thy people strive in vain against the wrath of 
Here and the might of the son of Peleus; and far away I see the 
flames that shall burn the sacred Ilion. I see thy father smitten 
down in his own hall, and the spear that shall drink thy life¬ 
blood. Ah me! for the doom that is coming, and for the pleas¬ 
ant days when we loved and wandered among the dells of Ida.” 

So Paris dwelt with Helen in the house of Priam; but men 
said, “ This is no more the brave Alexandras,” for he lay at 
ease on silken couches, and his spear and shield hung idle on the 
wall. For him the wine sparkled in the goblet while the sun 
rose high in the heavens, and he cared only to listen to the voice 
of Helen, or the minstrels who sang of the love and the bowers 
of laughter-loving Aphrodite. And Helen sat by his side in 
sullen mood, for she thought of the former days and of the evil 
which she had done to the good King Menelaus. Then there 
came into her heart a deep hatred for Paris, and she loathed 
him for his false words and his fond looks, as he lay quaffing the 
wine and taking his rest by day and by night upon the silken 
couches. 

But throughout the streets of Ilion there was hurrying and 
shouting of armed men, and terror and cries of women and 
children; for the hosts of the Achaians were come to take ven¬ 
geance for the wrongs of Menelaus. Yet Paris heeded not the 
prayers of his brethren, that he should send back Helen; so she 
tarried by his side in his gilded chambers, and he went not forth 


LITERATURE. 


726 

to the battle, till all men reviled him for his evil love, because he 
had forsaken the fair CEnone. 

So for Paris fell the mighty Hector; for him died the brave 
Sarpedon; and the women of Ilion mourned for their husbands 
who were smitten down by the Achaian warriors. Fiercer and 
fiercer grew the strife, for Plere and Athene fought against the 
men of Troy, and no help came from the laughter-loving Aphro¬ 
dite. 

Many times the years went round, while yet the Achaians 
strove to take the city of Priam, till at last for very shame Paris 
took from the wall his spear and shield, and went forth to the 
battle, but the strength of his heart and of his arm was gone, and 
he trembled at the fierce war-cries, as a child trembles at the roar¬ 
ing of the storm. Then before the walls of Ilion there was fiercer 
strife, and the bodies of the slain lay in heaps upon the battle plain. 
Faint and weary, the people of Priam were shut up within the 
walls, until the Achaians burst into the gates and gave the city 
to sword and flame. Then the cry of men and women went up 
to the high heaven, and the blood ran in streams upon the 
ground. With a mighty blaze rose up the flames of the burning 
city, and the dream of Paris was ended. 

Fast he fled from the wrath of Menelaus, and he cared not 
to look back on the Argive Helen or the slaughter of his kins¬ 
folk and his people. But the arrow of Philoctetes came hissing 
through the air, and the barb was fixed in the side of Paris. 
Hastily he drew it from the wound, but the weapons of Herakles 
failed not to do their work, and the poison sped through his 
burning veins. Onwards he hastened to the pine forests of Ida, 
but his limbs trembled beneath him, and he sank down as he 
drew nigh to the grassy bank where he had tended his flocks in 
the former days. u Ah, CEnone,” he said, “ the evil dream is 
over, and thy voice comes back to mine ear, soft and loving as 
when I wooed and won thee among the dells of Ida. Thou 


PARIS. 


7 2 7 


hearest me not, CEnone, or else I know that, fcfrgiving all the 
wrong, thou wouldst hasten to help me.” 

And even as he spoke CEnone stood before him, fair and 
beautiful as in the days that were past. The glory as of the 
pure evening time was slied upon her face, and her eye glistened 
with the light of an undying love. Then she laid her hand upon 
him and said, gently, “Dost thou know me, Paris? I am the 
same CEnone whom thou didst woo in the dells of woody Ida. My 
grief hath not changed me, but thou art not the same, O Paris, 
for thy love hath wandered far away, and thou hast yielded thy¬ 
self long to an evil dream.” But Paris said, “ I have wronged 
thee, CEnone, fairest and sweetest, and what may atone for the 
wrong? The fire burns in my veins, my head reels, and mine 
eye is dim; look but upon me once, that thinking on our ancient 
love, I may fall asleep and die.” 

Then CEnone knelt by the side of Paris, and saw the wound 
which the arrow of Philoctetes had made; but soon she knew 
that neither gods nor men could stay the poison with which 
Herakles had steeped his mighty weapons. There she knelt, but 
Paris spoke not more. The coldness of death passed over him 
as CEnone looked down upon his face and thought of the days 
when they lived and loved amid the dells of Ida. 

Long time she knelt by his side, until the stars looked forth 
in the sky. Then CEnone said, “O Eris, well hast thou worked 
thy will, and well hath Aphrodite done thy bidding. O Paris, 
we have loved and suffered, but I never did thee wrong, and now 
I follow thee to the dark land of Hades.” 

Presently the flame shot up to heaven from the funeral pile 
of Paris, and CEnone lay down to rest on the fiery couch by his 
side. 


728 


LITERATURE. 


ACHILLEJ3. 

Nine years the Achaians had fought against Ilion to avenge 
the wrongs and woes of Helen, and still the war went on, and 
only the words of Kalchas, which he spoke long ago in Aulis, 
cheered them with the hope that the day of vengeance was near 
at hand. For strife had arisen between the King, Agamemnon, 
and the mighty son of Peleus, and it seemed to the men of 
Argos thafc all their toil must be for naught. In fierce anger 
Achilles vowed a vow that he would go forth no more to the 
battle, and he sat in sullen silence within his tent, or wandered 
gloomily along the sea-shore. With fresh courage the hosts of 
the Trojans poured out from their walls when they knew that 

Achilles fought no more on the side of the Achaians, and the 

» 

chieftains sought in vain for his help when the battle went against 
them. Then the face of the war was changed, for the men of 
Ilion came forth from their city, and shut up the Achaians 
within their camp, and fought fiercely to take the ships. Many 
a chief and warrior was smitten down, and still Achilles sat 
within his tent, nursing his great wrath, and reviling all who 
came before him with gifts and prayers. 

But dearer than all others to the child of the sea-nymph, 
Thetis, was Patroclus, the son of Mencetius, and the heart of 
Achilles was touched with pity when he saw the tears stream 
down his face, and he said, u Dear friend, tell me thy grief, and 
hide nothing from me. Hast thou evil tidings from our home at 
Phthia, or weepest thou for the troubles which vex us here?” 
Then Patroclus spoke out boldly, and said, u Be not angry at 
my words, Achilles. The strength of the Argives is wasted 
away, and the mightiest of their chieftains lie wounded or dead 
around their ships. They call thee the child of Peleus and of 
Thetis, but men will say that thou art sprung from the rugged 


ACHILLES. 


7 2 9 


rocks and the barren sea, if thou seest thy people undone and 
liftest not an arm to help them.” Then Achilles answered, 
u My friend, the vow is on me, and I can not go, but put thou on 
my armor and go forth to the battle. Only take heed to my 
words, and go not in my chariot against the City of Ilion. 
Drive our enemies from the ships, and let them fight in the plain, 
and then do thou come back to my tent.” 

Then the hearts of the Achaians were cheered, for next to 
Achilles there was not in all the host a warrior more brave and 
mighty than Patroclus. At his word the Myrmidons started up 
from their long rest, and hastily snatched their arms to follow 
him to the battle. Presently Patroclus came forth. The glisten¬ 
ing helmet of Achilles was on his head, and his armor was 
girt around his body. Only he bore not his mighty spear, for 
no mortal man might wield that spear in battle but Achilles.. 
Before the tent stood the chariot, and harnessed to it were the 
horses, Xanthos and Balios, who grow not old nor die. 

So Patroclus departed for the fight, and Achilles went into 
his tent, and as he poured out the dark wine from a golden 
goblet, he prayed to Zeus, and said, “O thou that dwellest far 
away in Dodona, where the Selloi do thy bidding and proclaim 
thy will, give strength and victory to Patroclus, my friend. Let 
him drive the men of Ilion from the ships and come back safe to 
me after the battle.” But Zeus heard the prayer in part only, 
for the doom was that Achilles should see Patroclus alive no 

more. 

Then the hosts of the Trojans trembled as Patroclus drew 
nio*h on the chariot of Achilles, and none dared to go forth 

to 

against him. Onward sped the undying horses, and wherever 
thev went the ground was red with the blood of the Trojans 
who were smitten down by his spear. Then Sarpedon, the 
great chief of the Lykians, spake to Glaucus, and said, u O 
friend, I must go forth and do battle with Patroclus. The peo- 


73 ° 


LITERATURE. 


pie fall beneath his sword, and it is not tit that the chieftains 
should be backward in the strife.” But the doom of Sarpedon 
was sealed, and presently his body lay lifeless on the ground, 
while the men of Argos and of Ilion fought for his glittering 
arms. 

Then the doom came on Patroclus also, for Phoebus Apollo 
fought against him in the battle, and in the dust was rolled the 
helmet which no enemy had touched when it rested on the head 
of Achilles. Before him flashed the spear of Hector, as he 
said, “ The hour of thy death is come, Patroclus, and the aid of 
Achilles can not reach thee now.” But Patroclus said only, 
u It is thy time for boasting now'; wait yet a little while, and the 
sword of Achilles shall drink thy life-blood.” 

So Patroclus died, and there was a flerce fight over his 
body, and many fell on both sides, until there was a great heap 
of dead around it. But away from the fight, the horses Xan- 
thos and Balios wept for their charioteer, and they would not stir 
with the chariot, but stood fixed firm as pillars on the ground, 
till Zeus looked down in pity on them, and said, “ Was it for 
this that I gave you to Peleus, the chieftain of Phthia—horses 
who can not grow old or die, to a mortal man, the most 
wretched thing that crawls upon the earth ? But fear not; no 
enemy shall lay hands on the chariot of Achilles, or on the 
immortal horses which bear it. Your limbs shall be filled with 
new strength, and ye shall fly like birds across the battle-field 
till ye come to the tent of your master.” Then the horses wept 
no more, but swift as eagles they bore Automedon through the 
fight, while Hector and his people strove fiercely to seize them. 
At last the battle was over, and, while the Achaians bore the 
body of Patroclus to the ships, Antilochus, the son of Nestor, 
went to the tent of Achilles, and said, “ Thy friend is slain, and 
Hector has his armor.” 

Then the dark cloud of woe fell on the soul of Achilles. 



ACHILLES. 


73 1 


In a fierce grief he threw earth with both hands into the air, and 
rent his clothes, and lay down weeping in the dust. Far away 
in her coral eaves beneath the sea Thetis heard the deep groans 
of her child, and, like a white mist, she rose from the waters and 
went to comfort him; and she said, “Why weepest thou, my 
son? When Agamemnon did thee wrong, thou didst pray that 
the Achaians might sorely need thy aid in the battle, and thy 
wish has been accomplished. So may it be again .’ 1 But Achil¬ 
les answered, “ Of what profit is it to me, my mother, that 
my prayer has been heard, since Patroclus, my friend, is slain, 
and Hector has my armor? One thing only remains to me now. 
I will slay Hector and avenge the slaughter of Patroclus.” 
Then the tears ran down the cheeks of Thetis as she said, 
“ Then is thine own doom accomplished, for when thou slayest 
Hector, thou hast not many days to live.” “ So then let it be,” 
said Achilles; “the mighty Herakles tasted of death; there¬ 
fore let me die also, so only Hector dies before me.” 

Then Thetis sought no more to turn him from his purpose, 
but she went to the house of Hephaistos to get armor for her 
child in place of that which Hector had taken from Patroclus. 
And Achilles vowed a vow that twelve sons of the Trojans 
should be slain at the grave of his friend, and that Plector should 
die before the funeral rites were done. Then Agamemnon sent 
him gifts, and spake kindly words, so that the strife between 
them might end, and Achilles now go forth to fight for the 
Achaians. So, in the armor which Hephaistos had wrought at 
the prayer of Thetis, he mounted his chariot, and bade his horses 
bring- him back safe from the battle-field. Then the horse Xan- 
thos bowed his head, and the long tresses of his mane flowed 
down to the earth as he made answer, “ We will in very truth 
save thee, O mighty Achilles; but thy doom is near at hand, 
and the fault rests not with us now, or when we left Patroclus 
dead on the battle-field, for Phoebus Apollo slew him and gave 


73 2 


LITERATURE. 


the glory and the arms to Hector . 11 And Achilles said, “ Why 
speak to me of evil omens? I know that I shall see my father 
and my mother again no more; but if I must die in a strange 
land, I will first take my fill of vengeance . 11 

Then the war-cry of Achilles was heard again, and a 
mighty life was poured into the hearts of the Achaians, as they 
seized their arms at the sound. Thick as withering leaves in 
autumn fell the Trojans beneath his unerring spear. Chief after 
chief was smitten down, until their hosts fell in terror within the 
walls of IIion. Only Hector awaited his coming, but the 
shadow of death was stealing over him, for Phoebus Apollo had 
forsaken the great champion of Troy because Zeus so willed it. 
So in the strife the strength of Hector failed, and he sank down 
on the earth. The foot of Achilles rested on his breast, and 
the spear’s point was on his neck, while Hector said, “ Slay me 
if thou wilt, but give back my body to my people. Let not 
the beasts of the field devour it, and rich gifts shall be thine 
from my father and my mother for this kindly deed. 1 ’ But the 
eyes of Achilles flashed with a deadly hatred, as he answered, 
“Were Priam to give me thy weight in gold, it should not save 
thy carcass from the birds and dogs.” And Hector said, “ I 
thought not to persuade thee, for thy heart is made of iron, but 
see that thou pay not the penalty for thy deed on the day when 
Paris and Phoebus Apollo shall slay thee at the Scsean gates of 
Ilion.” Then the life-blood of Hector reddened the ground as 
Achilles said, “Die, wretch! My fate I will meet in the hour 
when it may please the undying gods to send it.” 

But not yet was the vengeance of Achilles accomplished. 
At his feet lay Plector dead, but the rage in his heart was fierce 
as ever, and he tied the body to his chariot and dragged it furi¬ 
ously, till none who looked on it could say, “ This was the brave 
and noble Hector.” But things more fearful still came after¬ 
wards, for the funeral rites were done to Patroclus, and twelve 


achIlles. 


733 


sons of the Trojans were slain in the mighty sacrifice. Still the 
body of Hector lay on the ground, and the men of Ilion sought 
in vain to redeem it from Achilles. But Phoebus Apollo came 
down to guard it, and he spread over it his golden shield to keep 
away all unseemly things. At last the King, Priam, mounted 
his chariot, for he said, u Surely he will not scorn the prayer of 
e i e be & s the body of his son.” Then Zeus sent 
Hermes to guide the old man to the tent of Achilles, so that 
none others of the Achaians might see him. Then he stood be¬ 
fore the man who had slain his son, and he kissed his hands, and 
said, “ Hear my prayer, Achilles. Thy father is an old man 
like me, but he hopes one day to see thee come back with great 
glory from Ilion. My sons are dead, and none had braver sons 
in Troy than I; and Plector, the flower and pride of all, has been 
smitten by thy spear. Fear the gods, Achilles, and pity me 
for the remembrance of thy father, for none has ever dared like 
me to kiss the hand of the man who has slain his son.” So 
Priam wept for his dear child, Hector, and the tears flowed down 
the cheeks of Achilles as he thought of his father, Peleus, and 
his friend, Patroclus, and the cry of their mourning went up to¬ 
gether. 

So the body of I lector was borne back to Ilion, and a great 
sacrifice was done to the gods beneath the earth, that Plector 
might be welcomed in the kingdom of blades and Persephone. 
But the time drew nigh that the doom of Achilles must be 
accomplished, and the spear of Phoebus Apollo pierced his heart 
as they fought near the Scaean gates of Ilion. In the dust lay 
the body of Achilles, while the Achaians fought the whole day 
around it, till a mighty storm burst forth from the heaven. 
Then they carried it away to the ships, and placed it on a couch, 
and washed it in pure water. And once more from her coral 
caves beneath the sea rose the silver-footed Thetis, and the cry 
of the nymphs who followed her filled the air, so that the Acha* 


734 


LITERATURE. 


ians who heard it trembled, and would have fled to the ships, 
but Nestor, the wise chief of the Pylians, said, “ Flee not, ye 
Argives, for those come to mourn for the dead Achilles.” 
So Thetis stood weeping by the body of her child, and the 
nymphs wrapped it in shining robes. Many days and nights 
they wept and watched around it, until at last they raised a 
great pile of wood on the sea-shore, and the flame went up to 
heaven. Then they gathered up the ashes, and placed them, 
with the ashes of Patroclus, in a golden urn which Hephaistos 
wrought and gave to Dionysus, and over it they raised a great 
cairn on the shore of the Sea of Helle, that men might see it 
afar off as they sailed on the broad waters. 


THE VE^QEANCE OF ODY££EU£. 

A fair breeze filled the sail of the Phaeakian ship in which 
Odysseus lay asleep as in the dreamless slumber of the dead. 
The wild music of the waves rose on the air as the bark sped on 
its glistening pathway, but their murmur reached not the ear of 
the wanderer, for the spell of Athene was upon him, and all his 
cares and griefs were for a little while forgotten. 

The dawn light was stealing across the eastern sky when 
the good ship rode into the haven of the sea-god, Phorkys, and 
rested without anchor or cable beneath the rocks which keep off 
the breath of the harsh winds. At the head of the little bay a 
broad-leaved olive tree spread its branches in front of a cave 
where the sea nymphs wove their beautiful purple robes. 
Gently the sailors raised Odysseus in their arms; gently they 
bore him from the ship, and placed him on the land with the 
gifts which Alkinous and Arete and Naosikaa had given to him 
when he set off to go to Ithaka. So the Phaeakians went away, 



THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


735 


and Odysseus rested once more in his own land. But when he 
awoke from his sleep, he knew not where he was, for Athene 
had spread a mist on land and sea. The haven, the rocks, the 
trees, the pathways wore a strange look in the dim and gloomy 
light; but while Odysseus yet pondered where he should stow 
away the gifts lest thieves should find them, there stood before 
him a glorious form, and he heard a voice, which said, u Dost 
thou not know me, Odysseus? I am Pallas Athene, who have 
stood by thy side to guard thee in all thy wanderings and deliver 



Menelaus. Paris. Diomedes. Odysseus. Nestor. Achilles. Agamemnon. 


HEROES OF THE TROJAN WAR. 


thee from all thy enemies. And now that thou standest again 
on thine own land of Ithaka, I have come to thee once more, to 
bid thee make ready for the great vengeance, and to bear with 
patience all that may befall thee until the hour be corned’ But 
Odysseus could scarcely believe that he was in Ithaka, even 
though it was Athene who spake to him, until she scattered the 
mist and showed him the fair haven with its broad-spreading 
olive trees, and the home of the sea nymphs, and the old hill of 
Neritos with its wooded sides. 





73 6 


LITERATURE. 


Then they placed the gifts of the Phseakians in the cave 
hard by the stream of living waters which flowed through it to 
the sea, and Athene touched him with a staff, and all the beauty 
of his form was gone. His face became seamed with wrinkles, 
his flashing eyes grew dim, and the golden locks vanished from 
his shoulders. His glistening raiment turned to noisome rags, 
as Athene put a beggar’s wallet on his shoulder and placed a 
walking staff in his hand, and showed him the path which led to 
the house of the swineherd Eumaius. 

So Odysseus went his way, but when he entered the court¬ 
yard of Eumaius in his tattered raiment, the dogs flew at him 
with loud barkings, until the swineherd drove them away, and 
led the stranger into his dwelling, where he placed a shaggy 
goat-skin for him to lie on. u Thou hast welcomed me kindly,” 
said Odysseus, “ the gods grant thee in return thy heart’s de¬ 
sire.” Then Eumaius answered sadly, “My friend, I may not 
despise a stranger though he be even poorer and meaner than 
myself, for it is Zeus who sends to us the poor man and the 
beggar. Little indeed have I to give, for so it is with bondmen 
when the young chiefs lord it in the land. But he is far away 
who loved me well and gave me all my substance. I would that 
the whole kindred of Helen had been uprooted from the earth, 
for it was for her sake that my master went to fight with the 
Trojans at Ilion.” 

Then Eumaius placed meat and wine before him. “ It is 
but a homely meal,” he said, “and a poor draught, but the 
chiefs who throng about my master’s wife eat all the fat of the 
land. A brave life they have of it, for rich were the treasures 
which my master left in his house when he went to take ven¬ 
geance for the wrongs of Helen.” “ Tell me thy master’s name, 
friend,” said the stranger. “ If he was indeed so rich and «reat 
I may perhaps be able to tell you something about him, for I 
have been a wanderer in many lands.” “ Why, what would be 


THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


737 


the use ? 11 answered the swineherd. “Many a vagabond comes 
here with trumped-up tales to my master’s wife, who listens to 
them greedily, hoping against hope. No, he must long ago have 
died; but we love Odysseus still, and we call him our friend, 
though he is very far away.” “Nay, but thou art wrong this 
time,” said the stranger, “ for I do know Odysseus, and I swear 
to thee that the sun shall not finish his journey through the 
heavens before thy lord returns.” But Eumaius shook his head. 
“ I have nothing to* give you for your news. Sure I am that 
Odysseus will not come back. Say no more about him, for my 
heart is pained when any make me call to mind the friend whom 
I have lost. But what is your name, friend, and whence do you 
come?” 

Then Odysseus was afraid to reveal himself, so he told him a 
long story how he had come from Crete, and been made a slave 
in Egypt, how after many years Phoinix had led him to the 
purple land, how Pheidon, the chief of the Thesprotians, had 
showed him the treasures of Odysseus, and how at last he had 
fallen into the hands of robbers, who had clothed him in beggarly 
rao's and left him on the shore of Ithaka. But still Eumaius 
would not believe. “ I can not trust your tale, my friend, when 
you tell me that Odysseus has sojourned in the Thesprotian land. 
I have had enough of such news since an EEolian came and 
told me that he had seen him in Crete with Idomeneus, mending 
the ships which had been hurt by a storm, and that he would 
come again to his home before that summer was ended. Many 
a year has passed since, and if I welcome you still, it is not for 
your false tidings about my master. “Well,” said Odysseus, 
“ I will make a covenant with you. If he returns this year, you 
shall clothe me in sound garments and send me home to Douli- 
chion, if he does not, bid thy men hurl me from the cliffs, that 
beggars may learn not to tell lies.” “ Nay, how can I do that,” 
said Eumaius, “when you have eaten bread in my house? Would 

47 


73 s 


LITERATURE. 


Zeus ever hear my prayer again? Tell me no more false tales* 
and let us talk together as friends.” 

Meanwhile Telemachus was far away in Sparta, whither he 
had gone to seek his father, Odysseus, if haply he might find 
him; and one night as he lay sleepless on his couch, Athene 
stood before him and warned him to hasten home. “ The 
suitors are eating up thy substance, and they lie in wait that 
they may slay thee before the ship reaches Ithaka; but the gods 
who guard thee will deliver thee from them, and when thou 
comest to the land, go straightway to the house of Eumaius. 

Then in the morning Telemachus bade farewell to Menelaus, 
and the fair-haired Helen placed in his hands a beautiful robe 
which her own lingers had wrought. “ Take it,” she said, u as 
a memorial of Helen, and give it to thy bride when thy mar¬ 
riage day has come.” So they set off from Sparta, and came 
to Pylos, and there, as Telemachus offered sacrifice, the wise 
seer Theoklymenus stood by his side, and asked him of his name 
and race, and when he knew that he was the son of Odysseus 
he besought Telemachus to take him with him to the ship, for he 
had slain a man in Argos and he was flying from the avenger of 
blood. So Theoklymenus, the seer, came with Telemachus to 
Ithaka. 

Then again Odysseus made trial of the friendship of Eumai¬ 
us, and when the meal was over, he said, “ To-morrow, early in 
the morning, I must go to the house of Odysseus. Therefore, 
let some one guide me thither. It may be that Penelope will 
listen to my tidings, and that the suitors will give alms to the 
old man. For I can serve well, my friends, and none can light 
a Are and heap on wood, or‘hand a winecup, more deftly than 
myself.” But Eumaius was angry, and said sharply, u Why not 
tarry here? You annoy neither me nor my friends, and when 
Odysseus comes home, be sure he will give you coat and cloak 
and all else that you may need.” And the beggar said, “ God 


THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


739 


reward thee, good friend, for succoring the stranger,” and he 
asked him if the father and mother of Odysseus were yet alive. 
Then Eumaius told him how his mother had pined away and 
died after Odysseus went to Ilion, and how Laertes lingered on 
in a wretched and squalid old age. 

But the ship of Telemachus had now reached the land, and 
he sent some of his men to tell Penelope that her son was come 
back, while he himself went to the house of Eumaius. Glad 
indeed was the swineherd to see him, for he had not thought to 
look upon his face again. And Telemachus said, u Is my mother 
yet in her home, or has she wedded another, and is the bridal 
couch of Odysseus covered with the webs of spiders?” Nay, 
she is still Mi her home,” said Eumaius; “ but night and day she 
sheds bitter tears in her grievous sorrow.” Then Telemachus 
spied the beggar; and when he learned his story from Eumaius, 
he was troubled. “What can we do with him? Shall I give 
him a cloak and a sword and send him away? I am afraid to 
take him to my father’s house, for the suitors may flout and jeer 
him.” Then the beggar put in his word: u Truly these suitors 
meet us at every turn. How comes it all about? Do you yield 
to them of your own free will, or do the people,hate you, or 
have you a quarrel with your kinsfolk? If these withered arms 
of mine had but the strength of their youth, soon should some 
of these suitors smart for their misdeeds; and if their numbers 
were too great for me to deal with, better so to die than see 
them thus devour the land.” “ Nay, friend, your guesses are 
wrong,” said Telemachus. “ The people do not hate me, and I 
have no feud with my kindred; but these suitors have swarmed 
in upon us like bees from all the country round about.” 

Presently Eumaius rose up to go with tidings to Penelope, 
and when he was gone a glorious form stood before the door, 
but the eyes only of Odysseus saw her, and he knew that it was 
Pallas Athene. “ The time is come,” she said; “ show thyself 


740 


LITERATURE. 


to Telemachus and make ready with him for the great ven¬ 
geance.” Then Athene passed her golden staff over his body, 
and straightway his tattered raiment became a white and glisten¬ 
ing robe. Once more the hue of youth came back to his cheek 
and the golden locks flowed down over his shoulders, so that 
Telemachus marveled, and said, “ Who art thou, stranger, that 
thou lookest like one of the bright gods? But now thy garment 
was torn, and thy hands shook with age.”' “ Nay, I am no god,” 
answered the man of many toils and sorrows, “I am thy father.” 
Then Odysseus kissed his son, and the tears ran down his cheek, 
but Telemachus would not believe. “ Men change not thus,” he 
said, “ from age to youth, from squalor and weakness to strength 
and splendor.” “ It is the work of Athene,” said the stranger, 
“ who can make all things fresh and fair, and if I be not Odys¬ 
seus, none other will ever come to Ithaka.” Then Telemachus 
put his arms around his father and wept, and the cry of their 
weeping went up together, and Odysseus said, “ The time for 
vengeance draws nigh. How many are these suitors?” “ They 
may be told by scores,” said Telemachus, “ and what are two 
against so many?” “They are enough,” answered Odysseus, 
“ if only Zeus and Athene be on their side.” 

Then Telemachus went to the house of Odysseus, where the 
suitors were greatly cast down because their messengers had not 
been able to kill him. And Penelope came forth from her 
chamber, beautiful as Artemis and Aphrodite, and she kissed 
her son, who told her how he had journeyed to Sparta, seeking 
in vain for his father. But Theoklymenus, the seer, put in a 
word, and said, “ Odysseus is now in Ithaka, and is making 
ready for the day of the great vengeance.” 

Presently Eumaius went back to his house, and there he 
found the beggar, for Odysseus had laid aside his glistening robe 
and the glory of youth had faded away again from his face. So 
they went to the city together, and sat by the beautiful fountain, 


THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


741 


whither the people came to draw water, and Melanthius, the 
goatherd, as he drove the flock for the suitors, spied them out 
and reviled them. “ Thieves love thieves, they say; where hast 
thou found this vagabond, friend swineherd?” and he pushed 
Odysseus with his heel. Then Odysseus was wroth, and would 
have slain him, but he restrained himself, and Eumaius prayed 
aloud to the nymphs that they would bring his master home. 
And Melanthius said, “ Pray on, as thou wilt, but Telemachus 
shall soon lie low, for Odysseus shall see Ithaka no more.” Then 
he drove the goats onwards to the house of Odysseus, and 
Eumaius and the beggar followed him, and as they communed 
by the way, the swineherd bade him go first into the house, lest 
any finding him without might jeer or hurt him. But the beg¬ 
gar would not. “ Many a hard buffet have I had by land and 
by sea,” he said, “ and I am not soon cast down.” Soon they 
stood before the door, and a dog worn with age strove to rise 
and welcome him, but his strength was gone, and Odysseus wept 
when he saw his hound, Argos, in such evil plight. Then, turn¬ 
ing to Eumaius, he said, u The hound is comely in shape. Was 
he swift and strong in his youth?” “ Never anything escaped 
him in the chase; but there are none to care for him now.” It 
mattered not, for the twenty long years had come to an end, 
and when Argos had once more seen his master, he sank down 
upon the straw and died. 

Then Odysseus passed into his house, and he stood a beggar 
in his own hall, and asked an alms from Antinous. “ Give,” 
said he, “for thou lookest like a King, and I will spread abroad 
thy name through the wide earth. For I, too, was rich once, 
and had a glorious home, and often I succored the wanderer; but 
Zeus took away all my wealth, and drove me forth to Cyprus 
and to Egypt.” But Antinous thrust him aside. “What pest 
is this?” he said. “ Stand off, old man, or thou shalt go again 
to an Egypt and a Cyprus which shall not be much to thy lik- 


> 


742 LITERATURE. 

ing.” Then Antinous struck him on the back; but Odysseus 
stood firm as a rock, and lie shook his head for the vengeance 
that was coming. But the others were angry, and said, “ Thou 
hast done an evil deed, if indeed there be a god in heaven; nay, 
often in the guise of strangers the gods themselves go through 
the earth, watching the evil and the good. 1 ’ 

When the tidings were brought to Penelope, she said to 
Eumaius, “ Go call me this stranger hither, for he may have 
something to tell me of Odysseus.” But the beggar would not 
go then. “Tell her,” he said, “that I know her husband well, 
and that I have shared his troubles; but I can not talk with her 
before the sun goes down. At eventide she shall see me.” 

Then, as Odysseus sate in the hall, there came up to him 
the beggar Arnaius, whom the suitors called Iros because he was 
their messenger, and he said, “ Get up, old man, and go, for the 
chiefs have bidden me to cast thee out; yet I would rather see 
thee depart of thy own will.” But Odysseus said, “ Nay, friend, 
there is room enough here lor both of us. You are a beggar 
like me, and let us pray the gods to help us; but lay r not thine 
hand upon me, lest I be angry and smite thee; for if I do, thou 
wilt not, I take it, care to come again to the house of Odysseus, 
the son of Laertes.” But Iros looked scornfully at him, and 
said, “ Hear how the vagabond talks, just like an old furnace 
woman. Come now, and gird up thyself, and let us see which 
is the stronger.” Then Antinous, who had heard them quarrel¬ 
ing, smiled pleasantly and called to the other suitors: “See 
here, the stranger and Iros are challenging each other. Let us 
bring them together and look on.” But Iros shrank back in fear 
as the beggar arose, and only one feeble blow had he given, 
when Odysseus dashed him to the ground. Then all the suitors 
held up their hands and almost died with laughter, as the 
stranger dragged Iros from the hall, and said, “ Meddle'not 
more with other men’s matters, lest a worse thing befall thee.” 



THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


743 


Then Odysseus gathered up his tattered garment and went and 
sat down again upon the threshold, while the suitors praised him 
with loud cheers for his exploit, and Amphinomus held out to 
him a goblet of rosy wine: “ Drink, stranger, and mayest thou 
have good luck in time to come, for now thy lot is hard and 
gloomy enough.” The kindly words stirred the beggar’s heart, 
and he said, u Hear my counsel, Amphinomus, and trust me 
who have borne many griefs and sorrows and wandered in many 
lands since Zeus drove me from my home. Depart from these 
evil men who are wasting another’s substance and heed not the 
woes that are coming, when Odysseus shall once more stand in 
his father’s house.” But Amphinomus would not hear, for so 
had Athene doomed that he should fall on the day of the great 
vengeance. 

So, laughing at the beggar as he sat quietly on the threshold, 
the suitors feasted at the banquet table of Odysseus, till the stars 
looked forth in the sky. But when they were gone away to 
sleep, Odysseus bade Telemachus gather up their arms and place 
them in the inner chamber. And they carried in the spears and 
shields and helmets, while Athene went before with a golden 
lamp in her hand to light the way. And Telemachus said, 
u Surely some one of the blessed gods must be here, my father, 
for walls, beams and pillars all gleam as though they were full of 
eyes of blazing fire.” But Odysseus bade him be silent and 
sleep, and Telemachus went his way, and Odysseus tarried to 
take counsel with Athene for the work of the coming vengeance. 

Then, as he sat alone in the hall, Penelope came forth from 
her chamber, to hear what the stranger might tell her of Odys¬ 
seus. But before she spake, Melantho reviled him as her father, 
Melanthius, had reviled him by the fountain, and Odysseus said, 
“ Dost thou scorn me because my garments are torn and my face 
is seamed with age and sorrow? Well, I, too, have been young 
and strong. See, then, that the change come not on thee when 


744 


LITERATURE. 


Odysseus returns to his home.” Then Penelope asked him 
straightly, “ Who art thou, stranger, and whence hast thou 
come?” And the beggar said, “Ask me not, for I have had 
grievous troubles, and the thought of all my woes will force 
the tears into my eyes, so that ye may think I am mad with 
misery.” But Penelope urged him: “ Listen to me, old man. 
My beauty faded away when Odysseus left me to go to Ilion, 
and my life has been full of woe since the suitors came thronging 
round me, because my husband, as they said, lived no more upon 
the earth. So I prayed them to let me weave a shroud for 
Laertes, and every night I undid the web which I had woven in 
the day time. Thus three years passed away, but in the fourth 
the suitors found out my trick, and I know not how to avoid 
longer the marriage which I hate. Wherefore tell me who thou 
art, for thou didst not spring forth a full-grown man from a tree 
or a stone.” Then Odysseus recounted to her the tale which he 
had told to the swineherd, Eumaius, and the eyes of Penelope 
were filled with tears as the stranger spoke of the exploits of 
Odysseus. “Good friend,” she said, “thy kindly words fall 
soothingly on my ear. Here shalt thou sojourn, and I will give 
thee a robe which I had meant for him who will come back to 
me no more.” But Odysseus would/not take it, and he strove 
to comfort her, till at the last he swore to her that before the 
year’s end her husband should stand before her. 

And now, at the bidding of Penelope, his old nurse, Eury- 
kleia, came with water to wash his feet, and looking hard at 
him she said, “ Many a stranger has come to this house, but 
never one so like in form and voice to my child, Odysseus, and 
the stranger answered, smiling, “ Most folk who have seen us 
both have marked the likeness.” So she knelt down to wash 
his feet, but Odysseus turned himself as much as he coukEfrom 
the fire, for he feared that she might see the mark of the wound 
which the boar’s tusk had made long ago when he went to Par- 


THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS 


745 



nassus. But he strove in vain. For presently she saw the scar, 
and she let go his feet, and the water was spilt upon the ground, 


ANCIENT METAL ENGRAVING. 

as she cried out, “It is Odysseus, and I knew him not until I 
saw the print of the deadly wound which Autolykus healed by 






















































































































LITERATURE. 


746 

his wondrous power.” Then Odysseus bade her be silent, for 
Athene had dulled the ear of Penelope that she might not hear, 
and he would not that any should know that the chieftain had 
come back to his home. 

So all were gone, and Odysseus alone remained in the hall 
through the still hours of night. But when the morning came, 
the suitors again feasted at the banquet board, and many a time 
they reviled the beggar and Telemachus, until Penelope brought 
forth the bow which Iphitus, the son of Eurytus, had given to 
Odysseus. Then she stood before the chiefs and said, “ Who¬ 
ever of you can bend this bow, that man shall be my husband, 
and with him I will leave the home which I have loved, and 
which I shall still see in my dreams.” But when Antinous saw 
it, his heart failed him, for he knew that none had ever beat the 
bow save Odysseus only, and he warned the suitors that it would 
sorely tax their strength. Then Telemachus would have made 
trial of the bow, but his father suffered him not. So Leiodes 
took it in his hand, and tried in vain to stretch it, till at last he 
threw it down in a rage, and said, “ Penelope must find some 
other husband; for I am not the man.” But Antinous reviled 
him for his faintheartedness, and made Melanthius bring fat to 
anoint the bow and make it supple; yet even thus they strove in 
vain to stretch it. 

Then Odysseus went out into the courtyard, whither the 
cowherd and the swineherd had gone before him, and he said to 
them, “ Friends, are ye minded to aid Odysseus if he should 
suddenly come to his home, or will ye take part with the men 
who devour his substance?” And they sware both of them that 
they would fight for their master to the death. Then Odysseus 
said, u I am that man, who after grievous woes has come back 
in the twentieth year to his own land; and if ye doubt, see here 
is the scar of the wound where the boar’s tusk pierced my flesh, 
when I went to Parnassus in the days of my youth.” When 


THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


747 


they saw the* scar, they threw their arms round Odysseus, and 
they kissed him on his head and his shoulders and wept, until he 
said, “ Stay, friends, lest any see us and tell the suitors in the 
house. And now hearken to me. These men will not let me 
take the bow; so do thou, Eumaius, place it in my hands,'and 
let Philoitius bar the gates of the court-yard.” But within the 
hall Eurymachus groaned with vexation because he could not 
stretch the bow; and he said, u It is not that I care for Penelope, 
for there are many Achaian women as fair as she; but that we 
are all so weak in comparison of Odysseus . 11 Then the beggar 
besought them that he, too, might try, and see whether the 
strength of his youth still remained to him, or whether his long 
wanderings had taken away the force of his arm. But Antinous 
said, “ Old man, wine hath done thee harm; still it is well to 
drink yet more than to strive with men who are thy betters.” 
Then said Penelope, “ What dost thou fear, Antinous? Vex 
not thyself with the thought that the beggar will lead me away 
as his bride, even if he should be able to stretch the bow of 
Odysseus.” “Nay, lady,” he answered, “is is not that; but I 
dread lest the Achaians should say, 1 The suitors could not 
stretch the bow, but there came a wandering beggar, who did 
what they strove to do in vain.’ ” 

Then the swineherd took up the bow, but the suitors bade 
him lay it down again, until at last Telemachus told Eumaius to 
bear it to Odysseus; and as the swineherd placed it in the beg¬ 
gar’s hands, Eurvkleia shut the doors of the hall and made them 
fast with the tackling of a ship. Then, as Odysseus raised the 
bow, the thunder pealed in the heaven, and his heart rejoiced 
because Zeus had given him a sign of his great victory. Pres¬ 
ently the arrow sped from the string, and Antinous lay dead 
upon the floor. 

Then the others spake in great wrath, and said, “ The vul¬ 
tures shall tear thy flesh this day, because thou hast slain the 


74 8 


LITERATURE. 


greatest chief in Ithaka.” But they knew not, as they spake 
thus, that the day of the great vengeance was come; and the 
voice of Odysseus was heard above the uproar, as he said, 
“ Wretches, did ye fancy that I should never stand again in my 
own hall? Ye have wasted my substance, ye have sought to 
steal my wife from me, ye have feared neither gods nor men, and 
this is the day of your doom.” The cheeks of the suitors turned 
ghastly pale through fear; but Eurymachus alone took courage 
and told Odysseus that Antinous only had done the mis¬ 
chief, because he wished to slay Telemachus and become King 
in Ithaka in the stead of Odysseus. “ Spare, then, the rest, for 
they are thy people, and we will pay thee a large ransom.” But 
Odysseus looked sternly at him, and said, “ Not this house full 
of silver and gold shall stay my hand in the day of my great 
vengeance.” 

Then Eurymachus drew his sword and bade his comrades 
fight bravely for their lives; but again the clang of the bow was 
heard, and Eurymachus was stretched lifeless on the earth. wSo 
they fell, one after the other, until the floor of the hall was 
slippery with blood. But presently the arrows in the quiver of 
Odysseus were all spent, and laying his bow against the wall, he 
raised a great shield on his shoulder and placed a helmet on his 
head, and took two spears in his hand. Then Agelaus called to 
Melanthius, “ Go up to the stair-door and shout to the people, 
that they may break into the hall and save us.” But Melanthius 
said, “ It can not be, for it is near the gate of the hall, and one 
man may guard it against a hundred. But I will bring you 
arms, for I know that Odysseus and his son have stowed them 
away in the inner chamber.” Hastily he ran thither and brought 
forth shields and spears and helmets, and the heart of Odysseus 
failed him for fear as he saw the suitors donning their armor and 
brandishing the lances. “Who has done this?” he asked, and 
Telemachus answered, “It is my fault, my father. I left the: 


THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


749 


•door ajar, but Eumaius shall go and see whether some of the 
women have given this help to the suitors, or whether, as I think, 
it be Melanthius.” So Eumaius and the cowherd placed them¬ 
selves on one side of the chamber door, and when Melanthius 
came forth with more arms for the chieftains, they caught him, 
and binding him with stout cords they hoisted him up to the 
beams and left him dangling in the air. u Keep guard there, 
Melanthius, all night long in thy airy hammock, and when the 
golden Morning comes back from the stream of Ocean you will 
not fail to see her.” 

But in the hall the troop of suitors stood facing Odysseus 
and Telemachus in deadly rage, and presently Athene stood be¬ 
fore them in the likeness of Mentor. Then all besought her 
help, and the suitors threatened her, and said, “ Be not led 
astray, Mentor, by the words of Odysseus, for if you side with 
him, we will leave you neither house nor lands, wife nor children, 
when we have taken vengeance for the evil deeds of the son of 
Laertes.” But the wrath of Athene was kindled more fiercely, 
and she said, “ Where is thy strength, Odysseus? Many a year 
the Trojans fell beneath the stroke of thy sword, and by thy 
wisdom it was that the Achaians stormed the walls of breezy 
Ilion. And now dost thou stand trembling in thine own hall?” 
Then the form of Mentor vanished, and they saw a swallow fly 
away above the roof-tree. In great fear the suitors took council 
together, and six of them stood forth and hurled their spears at 
Odysseus and Telemachus. But all missed their mark except 
Amphimedon and Ktesippus, and these wounded Telemachus on 
the wrist and Eumaius on the shoulder. 

But once again Athene came, and this time she held aloft 
her awful TEgis before the eyes of the suitors, and the hearts of 
all fainted for fear, so that they huddled together like cattle 
which have heard the lion’s roar, and like cattle were they slain, 
and the floor of the hall was floated with blood. 


75° 


LITERATURE. 


So was the slaughter ended, and the house of Odysseus was 
hushed in a stillness more fearful than the din of battle, for the 
work of the great vengeance was accomplished. 

But Penelope lay on her couch in a sweet slumber which 
Athene had sent to soothe her grief, and she heard not the foot¬ 
steps of Eurykleia as she hastened joyously into the chamber. 
“Rise up, dear child, rise up. Thy heart’s desire is come. 
Odysseus stands once more in his own home, the suitors are 
dead, and none are left to vex thee.” But Penelope could not 
believe for joy and fear, even when Eurykleia told her of the 
mark of the boar’s bite which Autolykus and his sons had 
healed. u Let us go, dear nurse,” she said, “ and see the bodies 
of the chieftains and the man who has slain them.” So she went 
down into the hall, and sate down opposite to Odysseus, but she 
spake no word, and Odysseus also sat silent. And Telemachus 
said to his mother, u Hast thou no welcome for my father who 
has borne so many griefs since. Zeus took him from his home 
twenty long years ago?” 

And Penelope said, “ My child, I can not speak, for my 
heart is as a stone within me; yet if it be indeed Odysseus, there 
are secret signs by which we shall know each other.” But 
when she bade Eurykleia make ready the couch which lay outside 
the bridal chamber, Odysseus asked, hastily, “ Who has moved 
the couch which I wrought with my own hands, when I made 
the chamber round the olive tree which stood in the court} T ard? 
Scarcely could a mortal man move it, lor it was heavy with gold 
and ivory and silver, and on it I spread a bull’s hide gleaming 
with a purple dye.” 

Then Penelope wept for joy, as she sprang into his arms; 
for now she knew that it was indeed Odysseus who had come x 
back in the twentieth year. Long time they wept in each 
other’s arms; but the keen-eyed Athene kept back the bright 
and glistening horses of the morning, that the day might not 
return too soon. 


THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 


75 1 


Then the fair Eurynome anointed Odysseus, and clothed 
him in a royal robe; and Athene brought back all his ancient 
beauty as when he went forth in his youth to Ilion. So they 
sat together in the light of the blazing torches., and Penelope 
heard from Odysseus the story of his griefs and wanderings, and 
she told him of her own sorrows, while he was far away in Ilion 
avenging the wrongs and woes of Helen. But for all his deep 
joy and his calm peace, Odysseus knew that here was not the 
place of his rest. 

“ The time must come,” he said, “ when I must go to the 

land where there is no sea; but the seer who told me of the 

things that are to be, said that my last hour should be full of 
light, and that I should leave my people happy. 

And Penelope said, “Yet we may rejoice, my husband, 
that the hateful chiefs are gone who darkened thy house and 

devoured thy substance, and that once again I hold thee in my 

arms. Twenty years has Zeus grudged me this deep happiness; 
but never has my heart swerved from thee, nor could aught stay 
thee from coming again to gladden my heart as in the morning 
of our life and joy.” 


POLO^. 

(636 B. C.) 

REJV(EMBF|ANCE AFTEF^ DEATH. 


Let not a death unwept, unhonor’d, be 
The melancholy fate allotted me! 

But those who loved me living, when I die 
Still fondly keep some cherish’d memory. 



75 2 


LITERATURE. 


TF(UE HAPPINESS. 

{By Solon.) 

The man that boasts of golden stores, 

Of grain, that loads his groaning floors, 

Of fields with freshening herbage green, 
Where bounding steeds and herds are seen, 
I call not happier than the swain, 

Whose limbs are sound, whose food is plain, 
Whose joys a blooming wife endears, 
Whose hours a smiling offspring cheers. 


jSOPHOCLEE- 

Sophocles was born at Athens B. C. 495. His father, 
though a poor mechanic, had the discrimination as well as gener¬ 
osity to bestow an excellent education upon his son, whose great 
powers began early to unfold themselves, and to attract the 
notice of the first citizens of Athens. Before he had attained 
his twenty-fifth year he carried off the prize in a dramatic con¬ 
test against his senior, zEschylus, and his subsequent career cor¬ 
responded to this splendid beginning. He is said to have com¬ 
posed one hundred and twenty tragedies, to have gained the 
first prize twenty-four times, and on other occasions to have 
ranked second in the list of competing poets. So excellent was 
his conduct, so majestic his wisdom, so exquisite his poetical 
capacities, so rare his skill in all the fine arts, and so uninter¬ 
rupted his prosperity, that the Greeks regarded him as the pecu¬ 
liar favorite of heaven. He lived in the first city of Greece, and 
throughout her best times, commanding an admiration and love 
amounting to reverence. He died in extreme old age, without 
disease and without suffering, and was mourned with such a sin- 



SOPHOCLES. 


753 


cerity and depth of grief as were manifested at the death of no 
other citizen of Athens. 


HER0D0TUJ3. 

Scarcely more is known of the celebrated historian, Herod¬ 
otus, than of the illustrious poet, Homer. He was born in Asia 
Minor about 484 B. C. 

After being well educated he commenced that course of 
patient and observant travel which was to render his name illus¬ 
trious as a philosophic tourist and historian. The shores of the 
Hellespont, Scythia, and the Euxine Sea; the Isles of the 
TEgaean; Syria, Egypt, Palestine, Colchis, the northern parts of 
Africa, Ecbatana, and even Babylon were the objects of his 
unwearied research. On his return from his travels, after about 
twenty years, he settled for some time at Samgs, where he wrote 
the nine books of his travels in those countries. 

The charm of Herodotus’ writings consists in the earnest¬ 
ness of a man who describes countries as an eye-witness, and 
events as one accustomed to participate in them. The life, the 
raciness, the vigor of an adventurer and a wanderer, glow in 
every page. He has none of the defining disquisitions that are 
b6rn of the closet. He paints history, rather than descants on 
it; he throws the colorings of a mind, unconsciously poetic, over 
all he describes. Now a soldier—now a priest—now a patriot— 
he is always a poet, if rarely a philosopher. He narrates like a 
witness, unlike Thucydides, who sums up like a judge. No 
writer ever made so beautiful an application of superstitions to 
truths. His very credulities have a philosophy of their own; 
and modern historians have acted unwisely in disdaining the 
occasional repetition even of his fables. For if his truths record 




754 


LITERATURE. 


the events—his fables paint the manners and the opinions of the 
time; and the last fill up the history, of which events are only 
the skeleton. 

To account for his frequent use of dialogue, and his dra¬ 
matic effects of narrative, we must remember the tribunal to 
which the work of Herodotus was subjected. Every author, un¬ 
consciously to himself, consults the tastes of those he addresses. 
No small coteries of scholars, no scrupulous and critical inquirers, 
made the ordeal Herodotus underwent. His chronicles were not 
dissertations to be coldly pondered over, and skeptically conned; 
they were read aloud at solemn festivals to listening thousands; 
they were to arrest the curiosity—to amuse the impatience—to 
stir the wonder of a lively and motley crowd. Thus the histo¬ 
rian imbibed naturally the spirit of the tale-teller, as he was 
driven to embellish his history with the romantic legend—the 
awful superstition—the gossipy anecdote—which yet characterize 
the stories of the popular and oral hedonist in the bazaars of the 
Mussulman, or on the sea-sands of Sicily. Still it has been 
rightly said, that a judicious reader is not easily led astray by 
Herodotus in important particulars. His descriptions of locali¬ 
ties, of manners and of customs, are singularly correct; and 
travelers can yet trace the vestiges of his fidelity. 

Few enlightened tourists are there who can visit Egypt, 
Greece, and the regions of the East, without being struck by the 
accuracy, with the industry, with the patience of Herodotus. 
To record all the facts substantiated by travelers, illustrated by 
artists, and amplified by learned research, would be almost im¬ 
possible; so abundant, so rich, has this golden mine been found, 
that the more its native treasures are explored, the more valu¬ 
able do they appear. The oasis of Siwah, visited by Browne, 
Hornemann, Edmonstone, and Minutuoli; the engravings of the 
latter, demonstrating the co-identity of the god Ammon and the 
god of Thebes; the Egyptain mode of weaving, confirmed by 








HERODOTUS. 


7S5 


the drawings of Wilkinson and Minutuoli; the fountain of the 
sun, visited by Belzoni; one of the stelae or pillars of Sesostris, 
seen by Herodotus in Syria, and recognized on the road to Bey- 
rout with the hieroglyphic of Remeses still legible; the kneading 
of dough, drawn from a sculpture in Thebes, by Wilkinson; the 
dress of the lower classes, by the same author; the prodigies of 
Egyptian architecture at Edfou; Caillaud’s discovery of Meroe 
in the depths of ^Ethiopia; these, and a host of brilliant evi¬ 
dences, center their once divergent rays in one flood of light 
upon the temple of genius reared by Herodotus, and display the 
goddess of Truth enshrined within. 

The following are the main subjects of his nine books, which 
were named after the nine muses:— 

Book I. Clio. —Transfer of the Lydian Kingdom from 
Gyges to Crcesus—minority of Cyrus—his overthrow of the 
Lydian power—rising greatness of Athens and Lacedaemon. 

Book II. Euterpe. —Dissertation on Egypt—Egyptian cus¬ 
toms, and the regal succession of that Empire. 

Book III. Thalia. —Achievements of Cambyses—his total 
subjugation of Egypt—election of Darius Hystaspes to the Per- 

t • 

sian throne, then vacant by the assassination of Smerdis, the im¬ 
postor. 

Book IV. Melpomene.— Full narrative of the calamitous 
expeditions of the Persians against the Scythians in the reign of 
Darius Hystaspes. 

Book V. Terpsichore. —The political progress of Lace- 
. daemon, Athens and Corinth—view of their relative resources 
during the time of Darius—expulsion of Hippias from Athens. 

Book VI. Erate. —Origin of the Kings of Lacedaemon— 
causes of Darius’ hostility to Greece—first Persian invasion of 
Hellas—battle of Marathon. 

Book VII. Polyhymnia. —Preparations and grand expedi¬ 
tion of Xerxes into Greece—battle at Thermopylae. 

















75 6 


LITERATURE. 


Book VIII. Urania.— Further progress of the Persian 
arms—Athens captured and burned—defeat of the Persians at 
the sea-fight of Salamis. 

Book IX. Calliope. —Defeat of the Persians at Plataea— 
defeat at the promontory of Mycale, and their complete retreat 
within their own territories. 


THE CROCODILE. 

(By Herodotus.) 

The following are the peculiarities of the crocodile: During 
the winter months they eat nothing; they are four-footed, and 
live indifferently on land or in the water. The female lays and 
hatches her eggs ashore, passing the greater portion of the day 
on dry land, but at night retiring to the river, the water of 
which is warmer than the night-air and the dew. Of all known 

animals this is the one which from the smallest size stows to be 

. ° 

the greatest, for the e^ir Q f the crocodile is but little bio^er than 
that of the goose, and the young crocodile is in proportion to the 
egg, yet when it is full grown, the animal measures frequently 
seventeen cubits, and even more. It has the eyes of a pig, teeth 
large and tusk-like, of a size proportioned to its frame; unlike 
any other animal, it is without a tongue; it can not move its 
under-jaw, and in this respect, too, it is singular, being the only 
animal in the world which moves the upper-jaw but not the 
under. It has strong claws and a scaly skin, impenetrable upon 
the back. In the water it is blind, but on land it is very keen of 
sight. As it lives chiefly in the river, it has the inside of its 
mouth constantly covered with leeches, hence it happens that, while 
all the other birds and beasts avoid it, with the trochilus it lives at 
peace, since it owes much to that bird, for the crocodile, when 
he leaves the water and comes out upon the land, is in the habit 






THE CROCODILE. 


757 


of lying with his mouth wide open, facing the western breeze; 
at such times-the trochilus goes into his mouth and devours the 
leeches. This benefits the crocodile, who is pleased, and takes 
care not to hurt the trochilus. 

The crocodile is esteemed sacred by some of the Egyptians, 
by others he is treated as an enemy. Those who live near 
Thebes, and those who dwell around Lake Mccris, regard them 
with especial veneration. Iu each of these places they keep 
one crocodile in particular, who is taught to be tame and tract¬ 
able. .They adorn his ears with ear-rings of molten stone or 
gold, and put bracelets on his fore-paws, giving him daily a set 
portion of bread, with a certain number of victims; and, after 
having thus treated him with the greatest possible attention while 
alive, they embalm him when he dies and bury him in a sacred 
repository. The people of Elephantine, on the other hand, are 
so far from considering these animals as sacred that they even eat 
their flesh. 

The modes of catching the crocodile are many and various. 
I shall only describe the one which seems to me most worthy of 
mention. They bait a hook with a chine of pork and let the 
meat be carried out into the middle of the stream, while the 
hunter upon the bank holds a living pig, which he belabors. The 
crocodile hears its cries and, making for the sound, encounters 
the pork, which he instantly swallows down. The men on the 
shore haul, and when they have got him to land, the first thing 
the hunter does is to plaster his eyes with mud. This once ac¬ 
complished, the animal is dispatched with ease, otherwise he 
gives great trouble. 


758 


LITERATURE. 


AF(TABAJMUS DI££UADE£ X£RXE£. 

(By Herodotus.) 

The other Persians were silent, for all feared to raise their 
voice against the plan proposed to them. But Artabanus, the 
son of Hystaspes, and uncle of Xerxes, trusting to his relation¬ 
ship, was bold to speak: u O King,” he said, “ it is impossible, 
if no more than one opinion is uttered, to make choice of the 
best; a man is forced then to follow whatever advice may have 
been given him, but if opposite speeches are delivered, then 
choice can be exercised. In like manner pure gold is not recog¬ 
nized by itself, but when we test it along with baser ore, we per¬ 
ceive which is the better. I counseled thy father, Darius, who 
was my own brother, not to attack the Scyths, a race of people 
who had no town in their own land. He thought, however, to 
subdue those wandering tribes, and would not listen to me, but 
marched an army against them, and ere he returned home lost 
many of his bravest warriors. Thou art about, O King, to at¬ 
tack a people far superior to the Scyths, a people distinguished 
above others both by land and sea. ’Tis fit, therefore, that I 
should tell thee what danger thou incurrest hereby. Thou sayest 
that thou wilt bridge the Hellespont, and lead thy troops through 
Europe against Greece. 

“ Now, suppose some disaster befall thee by land or sea, or 
by both. It may be even so, for the men are reputed valiant. 
Indeed one may measure their prowess from what they have 
already done; for when Datis and Artaphernes led their huge 
army against Attica, the Athenians singly defeated them. But 
grant they are not successful on both elements. Still, if they 
man their ships, and, defeating us by sea, sail to the Hellespont, 
and there destroy our bridge—that, sire, were a fearful hazard. 
And here ’tis not by my own mother wit alone that I conjecture 



ARTABANUS DISSUADES XERXES. 


759 


what will happen, but I remember how narrowly we escaped 
disaster once, when thy father, after throwing bridges over the 
Thracian Bosphorus and the Ister, marched against the Scythi¬ 
ans, and they tried every sort of prayer to induce the Ionians, 
who had charge of the bridge over the Ister, to break the pas¬ 
sage. On that day, if Histiaeus, the King of Miletus, had sided 
with the other princes, and not set himself to oppose their views, 
the empire of the Persians would have come to naught. Surely 
a dreadful thing is this even to hear said, that the King’s fortunes 
depended wholly on one man. 

“ Think, then, no more of incurring so great a danger when 
no need presses, but follow the advice I tender. Break up this 
meeting, and when thou hast well considered the matter with 
thyself, and settled what thou wilt do, declare to us thy resolve. 
I know not of aught in the world that so profits a man as taking 
good counsel with himself; for even if things fall out against one’s 
hopes, still one has counseled well, though fortune has made the 
counsel of no effect: whereas, if a man counsels ill and luck 
follows, he has gotten a windfall, but his counsel is none the less 
silly. Seest thou how God with His lightning smites alway the 
biofser animals, and will not suffer them to wax insolent, while 
those of lesser bulk chafe Him not? How likewise His bolts fall 
ever on the highest houses and the tallest trees? So plainly does 
He love to bring down everything that exalts itself. Thus oft- 
times a mighty host is discomfitted by a few men, when God in 
His jealousy sends fear or storm from heaven, and they perish in 
a way unworthy of them. For God allows no one to have high 
thoughts but Himself. Again, hurry always brings about disas¬ 
ters, from which huge sufferings are wont to arise; but in delay 
lie many advantages, not apparent (it may be) at first sight, but 
such as in the course of time are seen of all. Such, then, is my 
counsel to thee, O King. 

u And thou, Mardonius, son of Gobryas, forbear to speak 


LITERATURE. 


y6o 

foolishly concerning the Greeks, who are men that ought not to 
be lightly esteemed by us. For while thou revilest the Greeks, 
thou dost encourage the King to lead his own troops against 
them; and this, as it seems to me, is what thou art specially 
striving to accomplish. Heaven send thou succeed not to thy 
wish! For slander is of all evils the most terrible. In it two 
men do wrong, and one man has wrong done to him. The 
slanderer does wrong, forasmuch as he abuses a man behind his 
back; and the hearer, forasmuch as he believes what he has not 
searched into thoroughly. The man slandered in his absence 
suffers wrong at the hands of both; for one brings against him a 
false charge, and the other thinks him an evil-doer. If, however, 
it must needs be that we go to war with this people, at least 
allow the King to abide at home in Persia. Then let thee and 
me both stake our children on the issue, and do thou choose out 
thy men, and taking with thee whatever number of troops thou 
likest, lead forth our armies to battle. If things go well for the 
King, as thou sayest they will, let me and my children be put to 
death; but if they fall out as I prophesy, let thy children suffer, 
and thou, too, if thou shalt come back alive. But shouldst thou re¬ 
fuse this wager, and still resolve to march an army against Greece, 
sure I am that some of those whom tjiou leavest behind thee 
will one day receive the sad tidings that Mardonius has brought 
a great disaster upon the Persian people, and lies a prey to dogs 
and birds somewhere in the land of the Athenians, or else in that 
of the Lacedaemonians; unless, indeed, thou shalt have perished 
sooner by the way, experiencing in thy own person the might of 
those men on whom thou wouldst fain induce the Kin<r to make 
war.’ 1 


SOCRATES. 


761 


£OCRATE£. 


Socrates was born at Athens about the middle or latter part 
of April, 469 B. C. He commanded more admiration and 
reverence than any other individual of ancient or' modern times. 
By his ability and purity he emerged from a barbaric sophistry 
into the purest form of religion that was ever invented by man; 
it was nearer like that of Christ than was ever reached by mor¬ 
tal before. The object of his entire philosophy was the attain¬ 
ment of correct ideas concerning moral and religious obliga- 

O OO 

tions. 

Although Socrates was the son of a sculptor of limited 
means, he was educated according to the manner of the times. 
Music and poetry and gymnastic exercises formed the principal 
part of the education of an Athenian youth, and in these Socrates 
was instructed. 

Through the influence of Crito, a wealthy Athenian who 
subsequently became an intimate friend and disciple of our phi¬ 
losopher, he was induced to rise into a higher sphere. He then 
began the study of physics, mathematics, astronomy, natural phi¬ 
losophy, etc. 

Socrates, however, was unable to obtain any satisfactory 
knowledge from the philosophers and teachers of his time. 
Dissatisfied with the pretended wisdom of the Cosmologists and 
Sophists he entirely abandoned all speculative subjects and de¬ 
voted his entire attention to human affairs, and his earnestness as 
a social reformer brought upon him increasing odium from the 
“ Conservatives 11 of the day, as well as from that still larger 
class whose feelings of malice and revenge towards those who 
expose their follies and their vices, their wicked private customs 
and public institutions, can never be appeased but with the death 


LITERATURE 



of their victim. Accordingly, prejudice, unpopularity and hate 
finally prevailed, and two charges were brought against him, one 



-of not believing in the national deities, and the other of corrupt¬ 
ing the youth. That he did not believe in the idols that most 







































































































































SOCRATES. 


7 6 3 


of his contemporaries worshiped, is true; but that he corrupted 
the youth was as absurd as false, for all his teachings tended ever 
to purify them, and lead them in the paths of virtue and truth. 
He defended himself, and his defense is a perfect whole, neither 
more nor less than what it ought to have been. Proudly con¬ 
scious of his innocence, he sought not to move the pity of his. 
judges, for he cared not for acquittal, and “ exhibited that union 
of humility and high-mindedness which is observable in none, 
perhaps, with the exception of St. Paul. 11 His speech availed 
not, and he was condemned to drink the hemlock. He continued 
in prison thirty days before the sentence was executed, and to 
this interval we are indebted for that sublime conversation on 
the immortality of the soul which Plato has embodied in his 
Phsedo. 

At length the fatal day arrived, when he had reached his 
full three score years and ten. Refusing all means of escape to 
which his friends continually and importunely urged him, he took 
the poisoned cup from the hands of the boy who brought it to 
him in his prison-chamber, drank it off calmly amid the tears and 
sobs of surrounding friends, walked about till the draught had 
begun to take effect upon his system, and then laid himself down 
upon his bed, and soon breathed his last. Such was the life and 
such the death of this great man. It has been felt as the 
greatest of all human examples, not only by his own country¬ 
men, but by the whole civilized world. 


£OCRATE£ AND ARI£TODE]ViU£. 

{By Socrates.) 

We will now relate the manner in which Socrates discoursed 
with Aristodemus, surnamed the Little , concerning the Deity. 
For, observing that he neither prayed nor sacrificed to the gods, 



7 6 4 


LITERATURE. 


nor yet consulted any oracle, but, on the contrary, ridiculed and 
laughed at those who did, he said to him: 

u Tell me, Aristodemus, is there any man whom you admire 
on account of his merit?” 

Aristodemus having answered, u Many.”— u Name some 
of them, I pray you.” 

“I admire,” said Aristodemus, “ Homer for his epic poetry, 
Melanippides for his dithyrambics, Sophocles for tragedy, Poly- 
cletes for statuary, and Xeuxis for painting.” 

“ But which seems to you most worthy of admiration, Aris¬ 
todemus—the artist who forms images void of motion and intel¬ 
ligence, or one who hath the skill to produce animals that are 
endued, not only with activity, but understanding.” 

u The latter , there can be no doubt,” replied Aristodemus, 
<l provided the production was not the effect of chance , but of 
wisdom and contrivance.” 

“But since there are many things, some of which we can 
easily see the use of, while we can not say of others to what pur¬ 
pose they were produced, which of these, Aristodemus, do you 
suppose the work of wisdom?” 

“ It should seem the most reasonable to affirm it of those 
whose fitness and utility is so evidently apparent.” 

u But it is evidently apparent, that He, who at the begin¬ 
ning made man, endued him with senses because they were good 
for him; eyes, wherewith to behold whatever was visible; and 
ears, to hear whatever was to be heard. For say, Aristodemus, 
to what purpose should odors be prepared, if the sense of smell¬ 
ing had been denied? Or why the distinctions of bitter and 
sweet, of savory and unsavory, unless a palate had been likewise 
given, conveniently placed, to arbitrate between them, and de¬ 
clare the difference? Is not that Providence, Aristodemus, in a 
most eminent manner conspicuous, which, because the eye of 
man is so delicate in its contexture, hath therefore prepared eye- 



SOCRATES AND ARISTODEMUS. 


7 6 5 


lids like doors, whereby to secure it; which extend of themselves 
whenever it is needful, and again close when sleep approaches? 
Are not these eyelids provided, as it were, with a fence on the 
edge of them, to keep off the wind and guard the eye? Even 
the eyebrow itself is not without office, but, as a penthouse, is 
prepared to turn off the sweat, which, falling from the forehead, 
might enter and annoy that no less tender than astonishing part 
of us! Is it not to be admired that the ears should take in 
sounds of every sort, and yet are not too much filled by them? 
That the fore-teeth of the animal should be formed in such a 
manner as evidently best suited for the cutting of its food, and 
those on the side for grinding it in pieces? That the mouth, 
through which this food is conveyed, should be placed so near 
the nose and the eyes, as to prevent the passing, unnoticed, what¬ 
ever is unfit for nourishment; while Nature, on the contrary, 
hath set at a distance, and concealed from the senses, all that 
might disgust them? And canst thou still doubt, Aristodemus! 
whether a disposition of parts like this should be the work of 
chance, or of wisdom and contrivance?’ 1 

“ I have no longer any doubt,” replied Aristodemus; “ and, 
indeed, the more I consider it, the more evident it appears to me, 
that man must be the masterpiece of some great Artificer, carry¬ 
ing along with it infinite marks of love and favor of Him who 
hath thus formed it.” 

“ And what thinkest thou, Aristodemus, of that desire in 
the individual which leads to the continuance of the species? Of 
that tenderness and affection in the female towards her young, so 
necessary for its preservation? Of that unremitted love of life, 
and dread of dissolution, which take such strong possession of us 
from the moment we begin to be?” 

u I think of them,” answered Aristodemus, “ as so many 
regular operations of the same great and wise Artist, deliberately 
determining to preserve what He hath once made.” 


y66 


LITERATURE. 


“ But, farther (unless thou clesirest to ask me questions), see¬ 
ing, Aristodemus, thou thyself art conscious of reason and intel¬ 
ligence, supposest thou there is no intelligence elsewhere? Thou 
knowest thy body to be a small part of that wide-extended earth 
which thou everywhere beholdest; the moisture contained in it, 
thou also knowest to be a small portion of that mighty mass of 
waters whereof seas themselves are but a part, while the rest of 
the elements contribute, out of their abundance, to thy formation. 
It is the soul, then, alone, that intellectual part of us, which is. 
come to thee by some lucky chance, from I know not where. If 
so be, there is indeed no intelligence elsewhere; and we must be 
forced to confess, that this stupendous universe, with all the vari¬ 
ous bodies contained therein—equally amazing, whether we con¬ 
sider their magnitude or number, whatever their use, whatever 
their order —all have been produced, not by intelligence , but 
chance /” 

“ It is with difficulty that I can suppose otherwise,” returned 
Aristodemus, “for I behold none of those gods,whom you speak 
of as making and governing all things, whereas I see the artists, 
when at their work here amon^ us.” 

“ Neither yet seest thou thy soul, Aristodemus, which, how¬ 
ever, most assuredly governs thy body ; although it may well 
seem, by thy manner of talking, that it is chance , and not reason , 
which governs thee.” 

“I do not despise the gods,” said Aristodemus; “ on the 
contrary, I conceive so highly of their excellence, as to suppose 
they stand in no need of either me or of my services.” 

“ Thoumistakest the matter, Aristodemus; the Greater mao'- 

% ' & 

nificence they have shown in their care of thee , so much the more- 
honor and service thou owest them.” 

“Be assured,” said Aristodemus, “if I once could be per¬ 
suaded the gods took care of man, I should want no monitor to 
remind me of my duty.” 



SOCRATES AND ARISTODEMUS. 767 

“ And canst thou doubt, Aristodemus, if the gods take care 
of man? Hath not the glorious privilege of walking upright 
been alone bestowed on him, whereby he may, with the better 
advantage, survey what is around him, contemplate, with more 
ease, those splendid objects which are above, and avoid the 
numerous ills and inconveniences which would otherwise befall 
him? Other animals, indeed, they have provided with feet, by 
which they may remove from one place to another;-but to man 
they have also given hands , with which he can form many things 
tor his use, and make himself happier than creatures of any 
other kind. A tongue hath been bestowed on every other ani¬ 
mal, but what animal, except man, hath the power of forming 
words with it, whereby to explain his thoughts, and make them 
intelligible to others? And to show that the gods have had re- 
gard to his very pleasures , they have not limited them, like those 
of other animals, to times and seasons, but man is left to indulge 
in them whenever not hurtful to him. 

“But it is not with respect to the body alone that the gods 
have shown themselves thus bountiful to man! Their most ex¬ 
cellent gift is that soul they have infused into him, which so far 
surpasses what is elsewhere to be found. For, by what animal, 
except man, is even the existe7ice of those gods discovered, who 
have produced , and still uphold , in such regular order, this beau¬ 
tiful and stupendous frame of the universe? What other species 
of creatures are to be found that can serve, that can adore them ? 
What other animal is able, like man, to provide against the as¬ 
saults of heat and cold, of thirst and hunger? That can lay^ up 
remedies for the time of sickness and improve the strength 
nature hath given by a well-proportioned exercise? That can 
receive, like him, information and instruction, or so happily keep 
in memory what he hath seen, and heard, and learnt? These 
things being so, who seeth not that man is, as it were, a god. in 
the midst of this visible creation; so far doth he surpass, whether 


LITERATURE. 


7 68 

in the endowments of soul or body, all animals whatsoever that 
have been produced therein! For, if the body ol the ox had been 
joined to the mind of man , the acuteness of the latter would 
have stood him in small stead, while unable to execute the well- 
designed plan; nor would the human form have been of more use, 
to the brute, so long as it remained destitute of understanding! 
But in thee, Aristodemus, hath been joined to a wonderful soul, 
a body no less wonderful, and sayest thou, after this, ‘the gods 
take no thought for me!’ What wouldst thou, then, more to con¬ 
vince thee of their care?” 

“I would they should send, and inform me,” said Aristod¬ 
emus, u what things I ought or ought not to do in like manner 
as thou sayest they frequently do to thee.” 

“And what then, Aristodemus! Supposest thou, that when 
the o-ods give out some oracle to all the Athenians, thev mean 
it not for thee? If, by their prodigies, they declare aloud to all 
Greece—to all mankind—the things which shall befall them, are 
they dumb to thee alone? And art thou the only person whom 
they have placed beyond their care? Believest thou they would 
have wrought into the mind of man a persuasion of their being 
able to make him happy or miserable, if so be the } 7 had no such 
povjer? or would not even man himself, long ere this, have seen 
through the gross delusion? How is it, Aristodemus, thou re- 
memberest, or remarkest not, that the kingdoms and common¬ 
wealths most renowned as well for their wisdom as antiquity, 
are those whose piety and devotion hath been the most observ¬ 
able? And why thinkest thou that the providence of God may 
not easily extend itself throughout the whole universe? As, 
therefore, among men, we make best trial of the affection and 
gratitude of our neighbor, by showing him kindness, and dis¬ 
cover his wisdom, by consulting him in our distress; do thou, in 
like manner, behave towards the gods, and, if thou wouldst ex¬ 
perience what their wisdom, and what their love, render thyself 



SOCRATES AND ARISTODEMUS. 


769 


deserving the communieation of some of those divine secrets 
which may not be perpetrated by man, and are imparted to those 
alone who consult, who adore, who obey the Deity. Then shalt 
thou, my Aristodemus, understand there is a Being whose eye 
pierceth throughout all nature, and whose ear is open to every 
sound; extended to all places; extending through all time, and 
whose bounty and care can know no other bounds than those 
fixed by his own creation!” 

By this discourse, and others of the like nature, Socrates 
taught his friends that they were not only to forbear whatever 
was impious, unjust, or unbecoming before men; but even, when 
alone, they ought to have a regard to their actions; since the 
gods have their eyes continually upon us, and none of our de¬ 
signs can be concealed from them. 


EURIPIDES 

« 

Euripides flourished about 450 B. C.; was born 480 B. C. 
He spent his youth in the highest mental and physical training. 
He was a native of Athens, and enjoyed the most glorious days 
of her annals, being brought in direct connection with TEschylus 
and Sophocles, and in his older days was a pupil of Socrates. 

In comparing Euripides and the other two masters in Gre¬ 
cian tragedy, it may be said that he ranks first in tragic represent¬ 
ation and effect; Sophocles first in dramatic symmetry and orna¬ 
ment; TEschylus first in poetic vigor and grandeur. TEschylus 
was the most sublime; Sophocles the most beautiful; Euripides 
the most pathetic. The first displays the lofty intellect; the 
second exercises the cultivated taste; the third indulges the feel¬ 
ing heart. Each, as it were, shows a fine piece of sculpture. 
In TEschylus, it is a naked hero, with all the strength, boldness, 

49 



77° 


LITERATURE. 


and dignity of olden time. In Sophocles and Euripides, it may 
be perhaps the same hero; but with the former, he has put on 
the flowing robes, the elegant address, and the soft urbanity of a 
polished age; with the latter, he is yielding to some melancholy 
emotion, ever heedless of his posture or gait, and casting his 
unvalued drapery negligently about him. They have been com¬ 
pared by an illustration from another art: u The sublime and 
daring TEschylus resembles some strong and impregnable castle 
situated on a rock, whose martial grandeur awes the beholder— 
its battlements defended by heroes, and its gates proudly hung 
with trophies. Sophocles appears with splendid dignity, like 
some imperial palace of richest architecture; the symmetry of 
the parts and the chaste magnificence of the whole delight the 
eye and command the approbation of the judgment. The 
pathetic and moral Euripides has the solemnity of a Gothic 
temple, whose storied windows admit a dim religious light, 
enough to show its high embowed roof, and the monuments of 
the dead which rise in every part, impressing our minds with 
pity and terror as emblems of the uncertain and short duration of 
human greatness, and with an awful sense of our own mortality. 


ARI£T0PHA]NEj3. 

Very little is known about the life of Aristophanes. He 
was born about 444 B. C., and devoted himself to comic poetry. 
He wrote fifty-four plays, ot which eleven are extant. 

- I he comedies ol Aristophanes are universally regarded as 
the standard ot Attic writing in its greatest purity. His genius 
was vast, \ersatile, and original, and his knowledge of human 
nature surpassed by Homer and Shakspeare alone. 

The noble tone of morals, the elevated taste, the sound 




ARISTOPHANES. 


77 T 


political wisdom, the boldness and acuteness of the satire, the 
grand object, which is seen throughout, of correcting the follies 
of the day, and improving the condition of his country—all these 
are features in Aristophanes, which, however disguised, as they 
intentionally are, by coarseness and buffoonery, entitle him to the 
highest respect from every reader of antiquity. He conde¬ 
scended, indeed, to play the part of jester to the Athenian tyrant. 
But his jests were the vehicles for telling to them the soundest 
truths. They were never without a far higher aim than to raise 
a momentary laugh. He was no farce writer, but a deep philo¬ 
sophical politician; grieved and ashamed at the condition of his 
country, and through the stage, the favorite amusement of 
Athenians, aiding to carry on the one great common work, 
which Plato proposed in his dialogues, and in which all the bet¬ 
ter and nobler spirits of the time seem to have concurred as by 
a confederacy—the reformation of an atrocious democracy. 
There is as much system in the comedies of Aristophanes as in 
the dialogues of Plato. Every part of a vitiated public mind is 
exposed in its turn. Its demagogues in the Knights, its courts 
of justice in the Wasps, its foreign policy in the Acharnians, its 
tyranny over the allies in the Birds, the state of female society 
in the Sysistrate and the Ecclesiazusse, and its corrupt poetical 
taste in the Frogs. No one play is without its definite object; 
and the state of national education, as the greatest cause of all, 
is laid open in the Clouds. Whatever light is thrown, by that 
admirable play, upon the character of Socrates, and the position 
which he occupies in the Platonic Dialogues—a point, it may be 
remarked, on which the greatest mistakes are daily made—it is 
chiefly valuable as exhibiting, in a short but very complete anal¬ 
ysis, and by a number of flue Rembrandt-like strokes, not any 
of which must be overlooked, all the ‘features of that frightful 
school of sophistry, which at that time was engaged systemati¬ 
cally in corrupting the Athenian youth, and against which the 
whole battery of Plato was pointedly directed. 







77 2 


LITERATURE. 


PLATO. 

Plato was born in the year 429 B. C., and died when he 
was eighty-two years old, on his birthday. He was a pupil of 
Socrates, the first and purest of moral philosophers. By the rare 
union of a brilliant imagination with a fondness for severe 
mathematical studies and profound metaphysical investigations; 
by extensive foreign travel; by familiar intercourse with the most 
enlightened men of his time, ’particularly Socrates, whose in¬ 
structive conversations he attended for eight years, as well as by 
the correspondence which he maintained with the Pythagoreans 
of Magna Graecia, this great philosopher came to surpass all 
others in the vastness and profoundness of his views, and in the 
correctness and eloquence with which he expressed them; while 
his pure moral character entitled him to take his place by the 
side of Socrates. Socrates once said, u For what higher reward 
could a teacher ask than to have such pupils as Xenophon and 
Plato?” 

The object of Plato was evidently the noble one of placing 
before man a high intellectual, and consequently, by implication, 
a high moral standard as the end and object of his aspirations; 
to encourage his efiorts after the true, the pure, the beautiful, 
and the virtuous, knowing that the character would be purified 
in the endeavor, and that the consciousness of the progress made, 
step by step, would be of itself a reward. _ The object of science 
was, as he taught, the true, the eternal, the immutable, that 
which is; in one alone could these attributes be found united— 
that is God. Man’s duty, then, according to the Platonic sys¬ 
tem is to know God and His attributes, and to aim at beino- under 
the practical influence of this knowledge. This the Christian is 
taught, but much more simply and plainly, to know God, and 



PLATO. 


773 


Jesus Christ whom He hath sent, and to propose to himself a 
perfect standard, to be perfect even as his Father in heaven is 
perfect, and to look forward, by that help which Plato had no 
warrant to look for, to attain the perfect measure of the fulness 
of Christ. Although Plato believed and taught that man ought 
to strive after and devote himself to the contemplation of the 
One, the Eternal, the Infinite, he was humbly conscious that no 
one could attain to the perfection of such knowledge; that it is 
too wonderful and excellent for human powers. Man’s incapacity 
for apprehending this knowledge he attributed to the soul, during 
his present state of existence, being cramped and confined by its 
earthly tabernacle. 

Plato defined virtue to be the imitation of God, or the free 
effort of man to attain to a resemblance to his original, or, in 
other terms, a unison and harmony of all our principles and 
actions according to reason, whence results the highest degree 
of happiness. Evil is opposed to this harmony as a disease of 
the soul. Virtue is one , indeed, but compounded of four ele¬ 
ments— wisdom, courage , temperance , and justice. In his prac¬ 
tical philosophy he blended a rigid principle of moral obligation 
with a spirit of gentleness and humanity; and education he de¬ 
scribed as a liberal cultivation and moral discipline of the mind. 
Politics he defined to be the application, on a great scale, of the 
laws of morality; for a society, being composed of individuals, is 
under similar moral obligations, and -the end of politics to be 
liberty and concord. Beauty he considered to be the sensible 
representation of moral and physical perfection; consequently it 
is one with truth and goodness, and inspires love, which leads to 
virtue. 

Would that many so-called Christian legislators” and Chris¬ 
tian people would go to this “ heathen ” philosopher and learn of 
him—learn that to do right is always and ever the highest 
safety, the highest expediency, the highest “ conservatism,” the 
highest good! 




774 


LITERATURE. 


How beautifully Akenside expresses this:— 

44 Thus was beauty sent from heaven, 

The lovely ministress of truth and good, 

In this dark world: for truth and good are one, 
And beauty davells in them, and they in her, 
With like participation. Wherefore, then, 

O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie? 

O wherefore, with a rash, impetuous aim, 

Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand 
Of lavish fancy paints each flattering scene 
Where beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire 
Where is the sanction of eternal truth, 

Or where the seal of undeceitful good, 

To save your search from folly! wanting these, 

Lo! beauty withers in your void embrace. 

And with the glittering of an idiot’s toy 
Did fancy mock your vows.” 


THE PERFECT BEAUTY. 

{By Plato.) 

“ He who aspires to love rightly, ought from his earliest, 
youth to seek an intercourse with beautiful forms, and first to 
make a single form the object of his love, and therein to gene¬ 
rate intellectual excellencies. He ought, then, to consider that 
beauty in whatever form it resides is the brother of that beauty 
which subsists in another form; and if he ought to pursue that 
which is beautiful in form, it would be absurd to imagine that 
beauty is not one and the same thing in all forms, and would 
therefore remit much of his ardent preference towards one, 
through his perception of the multitude of claims upon his love. 
In addition, he would consider the beauty which is in souls more 
excellent than that which is in form. So that one endowed with 
an admirable soul, even though the flower of the form were 



THE PERFECT BEAUTY. 


775 


withered, would suffice him as the object of his love and care, 
and the companion with whom he might seek and produce such 
conclusions as tend to the improvement of youth; so that it 
might be led to observe the beauty and the conformity which 
there is in the observation of its duties and the laws, and to es¬ 
teem little the mere beauty of the outward form. He would 
then conduct his pupil to science, so that he might look upon the 



FROM ANCIENT SCULPTURING. 


loveliness of wisdom; and that contemplating thus the universal 
beauty, no longer would he unworthily and meanly enslave him¬ 
self to the attractions ot one form in love, nor one subject ot 
discipline or science, but would turn towards the wide ocean ot 
intellectual beauty, and from the sight of the lovely and majestic 
forms which it contains, would abundantly bring toith his con- 










































77 6 


LITERATURE. 


ceptions in philosophy; until, strengthened and confirmed, he 
should at length steadily contemplate one science which is the 
science of this universal beauty. 

u Attempt, I entreat you, to mark what I say with as keen 
an observation as you can. He who has been disciplined to this 
point in love, by contemplating beautiful objects gradually, and 
in their order, now arriving at the end of all that concerns love, 
on a sudden beholds a beauty wonderful in its nature. This is it, 
O Socrates, for the sake of which all the former labors were en¬ 
dured. It is eternal, unproduced, indestructible; neither subject 
to increase nor decay; not, like other things, partly beautiful and 
partly deformed; not at one time beautiful and at another time 
not; not beautiful in relation to one thing and deformed in rela- * 
tion to another; not here beautiful and there deformed; not beau¬ 
tiful in the estimation of one person and deformed in that of 
another; nor can this supreme beauty be figured to the imagina¬ 
tion like a beautiful face, or beautiful hands, or any portion of 
the body, nor like any discourse, nor any science. Nor does it 
subsist in any other that lives or is, either in earth, or in heaven, 
or in any other place; but it is eternally uniform and consistent, 
and monoeidic with itself. All other things are beautiful 
through a participation of it, with this condition, that although 
they are subject to production and decay, it never becomes more 
or less, or endures* any change. When any one, ascending from 
a correct system of love, begins to contemplate this supreme 
beauty, he already touches the consummation of his labor. For 
such as discipline themselves upon this system, or are conducted 
by another beginning to ascend through these transitory objects 
which are beautiful, towards that which is beauty itself, pro¬ 
ceeding as on steps from the love of one form to that of two, 
and from that of two, to that of all forms which are beautiful; 
and from beautiful forms to beautiful habits and institutions, 
and from institutions’ to beautiful doctrines: until, from the 


THE PERFECT BEAUTY. 


777 


meditation of many .doctrines, they arrive at that which is 
nothing else than the doctrine of the supreme beauty itself, 
in the knowledge and contemplation of which at length they re¬ 
pose. 

u Such a life as this, my dear Socrates,’ 1 exclaimed the 
stranger Prophetess, “ spent in the contemplation of the beauti¬ 
ful, is the life for men to live; which, if you chance ever to 
experience, you will esteem far beyond gold and rich garments, 
and even those lovely persons whom you and many others now 
gaze on with astonishment, and are prepared neither to eat nor 
drink so that you may behold and live forever with these objects 
of your love! What, then, shall we imagine to be the aspect of 
* the supreme beauty itself, simple, pure, uncontaminated with the 
intermixture of human flesh and colors, and all other idle and 
unreal shapes attendant on mortality; the divine, the original, 
the supreme, the monoeidic beautiful itself? What must be the 
life of him who dwells with and gazes on that which it becomes 
us all to seek? Think you not that to him alone is accorded the 
prerogative of bringing forth, not images and shadows of virtue, 
for he is in contact not with a shadow but with reality; with 
virtue itself, in the production and nourishment of which he 
becomes dear to the gods, and if such a privilege is conceded to 
any human being, himself immortal? ”—From the Banquet , 
translated by the poet Shelley . 


THE LA£T HOUFJg Of £OCF(ATE£. 

(By Plato.) 

u When the dead arrive at the place to which their demon 
leads them severally, first of all they are judged, as well those 
who have lived well and piously, as those who have not. And 
those who appear to have passed a middle kind of life, proceed- 



77 8 


LITERATURE. 


ing to Acheron, and embarking in the vessels they have, on these 
arrive at the lake, and there dwell, and when they are purified, 
and have suffered punishment for the iniquities they may have 
committed, they are set free, and each receives the reward of 
his good deeds, according to his deserts; but those who appear 
to be incurable, through the magnitude of their offences, either 
from having committed many and great sacrileges, or many 
unjust and lawless murders, or other similar crimes, these a suit¬ 
able destiny hurls into Tartarus, whence they never come forth. 
But those who appear to have been guilty of curable, yet great 
offences, such as those who through anger have committed any 
violence against father or mother, and have lived the remainder 
of their life in a state of penitence, or they who have become 
homicides in a similar manner, these must fall into Tartarus, but 
after they have fallen, and have been there for a year, the wave 
casts them forth, the homicides into Cocytus, but the parricides 
and matricides into P)'riphlegethon; but when, being borne along, 

they arrive at the Acherusian lake, there they cry out to and 

♦ 

invoke, some those whom they slew, others those whom they 
injured, and invoking them, they entreat and implore them to 
suffer them to go out into the lake, and to receive them, and if 
they persuade them, they go out, and are freed from their suffer¬ 
ings, but if not, they are borne back to Tartarus, and thence 
again into the rivers, and they do not cease from suffering this 
until they have persuaded those whom they have injured; for 
this sentence was imposed upon them by the judges. But those 
who are found to have lived an eminently holy life, these are 
they, who, being freed and set at large from these regions in the 
earth, as from prison, arrive at the pure abode above, and dwell 
on the upper parts of the earth. And among these, they who 
have sufficiently purified themselves by philosophy shall live 
without bodies, throughout all future time, and shall arrive at 
habitations yet more beautiful than these, which it is neither easy 
to describe, nor at present is there sufficient time for the purpose. 



THE LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES. 


779 


u But for the sake of these things which we have described, 
we should use every endeavor, Simmias, so as to acquire virtue 
and wisdom in this life; for the reward is noble, and the hope 
great. 

u To affirm positively, indeed, that these things are exactly 
as I have described them, does not become a man of sense; that 
however either this, or something of the kind, takes place with 
respect to our souls and their habitations—sinc'e our soul is cer¬ 
tainly immortal—this appears to me most fitting to be believed, 
and worthy the hazard for one who trusts in its reality; for the 
hazard is noble, and it is right to allure ourselves with such 
things, as with enchantments; for which reason I have prolonged 
my story to such a length. On account of these things, then, a 
man ought to be confident about his soul, who during this life 
has disregarded all the pleasures and ornaments of the body as 
foreign from his nature, and who, having thought that they do 
more harm than good, has zealously applied himself to the 
acquirement of knowledge, and who having adorned his soul 
not with a foreign but its own proper ornament, temperance, 
justice, fortitude, freedom, and truth, thus waits for his passage 
to Hades, as one who is ready to depart whenever destiny shall 
summon him. You then,” he continued, “ Simmias and Cebes, 
and the rest, will each of you depart at some future time; but 
now destiny summons me, as a tragic writer would say, and it 
is nearly time for me to betake myself to the bath; for it appears 
to me to be better to drink the poison after I have bathed my¬ 
self, and not to trouble the women with washing my dead body.” 

When he had thus spoken, Crito said, “ So be it, Socrates; 
but what commands have you to give to these or to me, either 
respecting your children, or any other matter, in attending to 
which we can most oblige you?” 

“ What I always say, Crito,” he replied, “nothing new; 
that by taking care of yourselves you will oblige both me and 



LITERATURE. 


780 

mine and yourselves, whatever you do,, though you should not 
now promise it; but if you neglect yourselves, and will not live 
as it were in the footprints ol what has been now and formerly 
said, even though you should promise much at present, and that 
earnestly, you will do no good at all.” 

“ We will endeavor then so to do,” he said; a but how shall 
we bury you?” 

“ Just as you please,” he said, “ if only you can catch me, 
and I do not escape from you.” And at the same time smiling 
gently, and looking round on us, he said, “I can not persuade 
Crito, my friends, that I am that Socrates who is now conversing 
with you, and who methodizes each part of the discourse; but 
he thinks that I am he whom he will shortly behold dead, and 
asks how he should bury me. But that which I some time since 
argued at length, that when I have drunk the poison I shall no 
longer remain with you, but shall depart to some happy state 
of the blessed, this I seem to have urged to him in vain, though 
I meant at the same time to console both you and myself. Be 
ye, then, my sureties to Crito,” he said, u in an obligation con¬ 
trary to that which he made to the judges; for he undertook 
that I should remain; but do you be sureties that, when I die, I 
shall not remain, but shall depart, that Crito may more easily 
bear it, and when he sees my body either burned or buried, may 
not be afflicted for me, as if I suffered some dreadful thing, nor 
say at my interment that Socrates is laid out, or is carried out, 
or is buried. For be well assured,” he said, u most excellent 
Crito, that to speak improperly is not only culpable as to the 
thing itself, but likewise occasions some injury to our souls. You 
must have a good courage, then, and say that you bur}' my body, 
and bury it in such a manner as is pleasing to you, and as you 
think is most agreeable to our laws.” 

When he had said this, he rose, and went into a chamber 
to bathe, and Crito followed him, but he directed us to wait for 


THE LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES. 


781 


him. We waited, therefore, conversing among ourselves about 
what had been said, and considering it again, and sometimes 
speaking about our calamity, how severe it would be to us, sin¬ 
cerely thinking that, like those who are deprived of a father, we 
should pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had 
bathed, and his children were brought to him, for he had two 
little sons and one grown up, and the women belonging to his 
family were come, having conversed with them in the presence 
of Crito, and giving them such injunctions as he wished, he 
directed the women and children to go away, and then returned 
to us. And it was now near sunset; for he spent a considerable 
time within. But when he came from bathing he sat down, and 
did not speak much afterwards. Then the officer of the Eleven 
came in, and, standing near him, said, u Socrates, I shall not 
have to find that fault with you that I do with others, that they 
are angry with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, 
I bid them drink the poison. But you, on all other occasions 
during the time you have been here, I have found to be the most 
noble, meek, and excellent man of all that ever came into this 
place; and, therefore, I am now well convinced that you will not 
be angry with me, for you know who are to blame, but with 
them. Now, then, for you know what I came to announce to 
you, farewell, and endeavor to bear what is inevitable as easily 
as possible.” And at the same time, bursting into tears he 
turned away and withdrew. 

And Socrates, looking after him, said, “ And thou, too, fare¬ 
well; we will do as you direct.” At the same time turning to 
us, he said, “ How courteous this man is; during the whole time 
I have been here he has visited me, and conversed with me some¬ 
times, and proved the worthiest of men; and now how gener¬ 
ously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us obey him, and 
let some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but if not, 
let the man pound it.” 


782 


LITERATURE. 


Then Crito said, “But 1 think, Socrates, that the sun is still 
on the mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, I know that 
others have drank the poison very late, alter it had been an¬ 
nounced to them, and have supped and drank freely. Do not 
hasten, then, for there is yet time.” 

Upon this Socrates replied, “ These men whom you mention, 
Crito, do these things with good reason, for they think they shall 
gain by so doing, and I, too, with good reason shall not do so; 
for I think I shall gain nothing by drinking a little later, except 
to become ridiculous to myself, in being so fond of life, and 
sparing of it when none any longer remains. Go, then,” he said, 
“ obey, and do not resist.” 

Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. 
And the boy having gone out, and stayed for some time, came, 
bringing with him the man that was to administer the poison, 
who brought it ready pounded in a cup. And Socrates, on see¬ 
ing the man, said, “Well, my good friend, as you are skilled in 
these matters, what must I do?” 

“ Nothing else,” he replied, “ than, when you have drank it, 
walk about until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down; 
thus it will do its purpose.” And at the same time he held out 
the cup to Socrates. And he having received it very cheerfully, 
neither trembling, nor changing at all in color or countenance, 
but, as he was wont, looking steadfastly at the man, said, “What 
say you of this potion, with respect to making a libation to any 
one, is it lawful or not?” 

“We only pound so much, Socrates,” he said, “ as we think 
sufficient to drink.” 

“ I understand you,” he said, “ but it is certainly both lawful 
and right to pray to the gods that my departure hence thither 
may be happy; which therefore I pray, and so may it be.” And 
as he said this he drank it off readily and calmly. Thus far, 
most of us were with difficulty able to restrain ourselves from 


THE LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES. 


7 8 3 


weeping; but when we saw him drinking, and having finished 
the draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of myself 
the tears came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept 
for myself, for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, 
in being deprived of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, 
when he could not restrain his tears, had risen up. But Apollo- 
dorus even before this had not ceased weeping, and then burst¬ 
ing into an agony of grief, weeping and lamenting, he pierced 
the heart of every one present, except Socrates himself. But 
he said, u What are you doing, my admirable friends? I in¬ 
deed, for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that they 
might not commit any folly of this kind. For I have heard that 
it is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and 
bear up.” 

When we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our 
tears. But he, having walked about, when he said that his legs 
were growing heavy, laid down on his back; for the man so 
directed him. And at the same time he who gave him the poison, 
taking hold of him, after a short interval examined his feet and 
legs; and then having pressed his foot hard, he asked if he felt 
it; he said that he did not. And after this he pressed his thighs; 
and thus going higher, he showed us that he was growing cold 
and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said that when 
the poison reached his heart he should then depart. But now 
the parts around the lower belly were almost cold; when, un¬ 
covering himself, for he had been covered over, he said, and they 
were his last words, “ Crito, we owe a cock to AEsculapius; pay 
it, therefore, and do not neglect it.” 

“ It shall be done,” said Crito, “ but consider whether you 

have any thing else to say.” 

To this question he gave no reply, but shortly after he gave 
a convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes 
were fixed, and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes. 


LITERATURE. 



This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may 
say, the best of all of his time that we have known, and, more¬ 
over, the most wise and just. 


DEMOJ3THEJNEJ3. 


Demosthenes was born 382 B. C. and died 322 B. C., at 
the age of sixty. His father died when he was but seven years 
old and left his son a large estate, which was squandered by his 
guardians. 

Demosthenes, most happily, was forced to depend upon the 
resources of his own intellect, and determined to devote his life 
to oratory. He chose Isseus for his master, and though having 
a weakly constitution, and an impediment in his speech, yet by 


steady, persevering effort, and daily 
practice, he brought himself to ad¬ 
dress without embarrassment, and 
with complete success, the assembled 
multitudes of the Athenian people. 
His first attempts at oratory were 
made to vindicate his own claims, 
and recover the property which his 
guardians had appropriated to them¬ 
selves. In this he proved entirely 
successful. After this, he displayed 
his ability as an orator on several 



king Philip (of Macedon). public occasions, and succeeded by 


the power of his eloquence in preventing the Athenians from 
engaging in a war with Persia. 

OO O 

But most of the oratorical efforts of Demosthenes were di¬ 
rected to rouse the Athenians from indolence, and to arm them 




DEMOSTHENES. 


7 8 5 


against the insidious designs and ambitious schemes of Philip, 

who, in the y cai 35 8 D., began the attach upon the northern 

maritime allies of Athens. 

In modern times, Lord Chatham’s speech on American 
affairs, delivered in the House of Lords, November 18, 1877; 
Edmund Burke’s, on the “ Nabob of Arcot’s Debts,” delivered 
in the blouse of Commons, February 28, 1785; Fisher Ames’, on 
the “ British Treaty,” delivered in our House of Representatives* 
April 28, 1796? Daniel Webster’s, on the “Public Lands,” de¬ 
livered in the United States Senate, 1830, and Charles Sumner’s, 
on the infamous “Fugitive Slave Bill,” delivered in the Senate in 
1 85 2 , will, for effective, brilliant, and logical eloquence, rank side 
by side with the masterly efforts of Demosthenes. 


PHILIP AND THE ATHENIAN^. 

{Oration of Demosthenes.) 

If any one of you, Athenians, think that Philip is hard to 

» 

struggle with, considering both the magnitude of the power 
already to his hand and the fact that all the strong places are 
lost to our state—he thinks rightly enough. But let him take 
this into account: that we ourselves, Athenians, once held Pydna, 
and Potidsea, and Methone, and all that country—as it were in 
our own home-circle; and many of the states now under his 
sway were beginning to be self-ruled and free, and preferred to 
hold friendly relations with us rather than with him. Now, then, 
if Philip had harbored at that time the idea that it was hard to 
struggle with the Athenians when they had such strongholds in 
his country, while he was destitute of allies—he would have 
effected none of those things which he has accomplished, nor 
would he have ever acquired so great power. But he at least 
knew this well enough, Athenians—that all these strongholds are 

5 ° 






786 


LITERATURE. 


prizes of war open to each contestant, and that naturally the pos¬ 
sessions of the absent fall to those who are on the spot, and the 
opportunities of the careless are seized by those willing to work 

and to risk. It has been so in his case, for, possessed by such sen- 

• 

timents, he has thoroughly subdued and now holds all places; 
some, as one might hold them in his grasp by custom of war; 
others, by having made them allies and friends. No wonder; for 
all are ready to give their heartfelt adherence to those whom 
they see prepared and ready to do what necessity demands. 

In like manner, if you, also, Athenians, are now ready to 
adopt the same principle (since, alas! you were not before), and 
each one of you, throwing away all dissimulation, is ready to show 
himself useful to the state, as far as its necessity and his power 
extend; if each is ready to do —the rich to contribute, those of 
serviceable age to take the held; in a word, if you choose to be 
your own masters, and each individual ceases to do nothing, hop¬ 
ing that his neighbor will do all for him—you will both regain 
your possessions (with heaven’s permission) and recover your 
opportunities recklessly squandered: you will take vengeance on 

HIM. 

Do not suppose his present happy fortune immutable—im¬ 
mortal, like a god’s; on the other hand, some hate him, others 
fear him, Athenians, and envy him, and that, too, in the number 
of those who seem on intimate terms with him; for all those pas¬ 
sions that rage in other men, we may assume to be hidden in the 
bosoms of those also that surround him. Now, however, all 
these passions have crouched before him, having no escape on 
account of your laziness and indifference, which, I repeat, you 
ought immediately to abandon. For you see the state of things, 
Athenians, to what a pitch of arrogance he has come—this man 
who gives you no choice to act or to remain quiet, but brags 
about and talks words of overwhelming insolence, as they tell us. 
He is not such a character as to rest with the possessions which 




PHILIP AND THE ATHENIANS. 


787 


he has conquered, but is always compassing something else, and 
at every point hedging us, dallying and supine, in narrower and 
narrower circles. When, then, Athenians, when will you do 
what you ought? As soon as something happens? As soon, 
great Jove! as necessity compels you? Why, what does neces¬ 
sity compel you to think now of your deeds? In my opinion, 
the most urgent necessity to freemen is the disgrace attendant 
upon their public policy. 

Or do you prefer—tell me, do you prefer to wander about 
here and there, asking in the market-place, “ What news? what 
news?” What can be newer than that a Macedonian should 
crush Athenians in war and lord it over all Greece? u Is Philip 
dead?” “ No, by Jove, but he’s sick.” What difference is it to 
you? what difference? For if anything should happen to him, 
you would quickly raise up another Philip, if you manage your 
public affairs as you now do. For not so much to his own 
strength as to your laziness does he owe his present aggrandize¬ 
ment. 

Yet even if anything should happen to him, and fortune 
begin to favor us (for she has always cared for us more kindly 
than we for ourselves); you know that by being nearer to them 
you could assert your power over all these disordered posses¬ 
sions, and could dictate what terms you might choose; but as 
you now act, if some chance should give you Amphipolis, you 
could not take it, so lacking are you in your preparations and 
zeal. 


JVIEASUREJ5 TO F[E£I£T PHILIP. 

(Oration of Demosthenes.) 

Let any one now come forward and tell me by whose con¬ 
trivance but ours Philip has grown strong. Well, sir, this looks 
bad, but things at home are better. What proof can be ad- 




788 


LITERATURE. 


ducecl ? The parapets that are whitewashed ? The roads that 
are repaired? fountains and fooleries? Look at the men ol 
whose statesmanship these are the fruits. They have risen from 
beggary to opulence,* or from obscurity to honor; some have 
made their private houses more splendid than the public build¬ 
ings, and in proportion as the state has declined, their fortunes 
have been exalted. 

What has produced these results? How is it that all went 
prosperously then, and now goes wrong? Because anciently the 
people, having the courage to be soldiers, controlled the states¬ 
men, and disposed of all emoluments; any of the rest was happy to 
receive from the people his share of honor, office, or advantage. 
Now, contrariwise, the statesmen dispose of emoluments; 
through them everything is done; you, the people, enervated, 
stripped of treasure and allies, are become as underlings and 
hangers-on, happy if these persons dole you out show-money or 
send you paltry beeves; and, the unmanliest part of all, you are 
grateful for receiving your own. They, cooping you in the city, 
lead you to your pleasures, and make you tame and submissive 
to their hands. It is impossible, I say, to have a high and noble 
spirit, while you are engaged in petty and mean employments; 
whatever be* the pursuits of men, their characters must be 
similar. By Ceres, I should not wonder if I, for mentioning 
these things, suffered more from your resentment than the men 
who have brought them to pass. For even liberty of speech 
you allow not on all subjects; I marvel indeed you have allowed 
it here. 

Would you but even now, renouncing these practices, per¬ 
form military service and act worthily of yourselves; would you 
employ these domestic superfluities as a means to gain advantage 
abroad; perhaps, Athenians, perhaps you might gain some solid 
and important advantage, and be rid of these perquisites, which 
are like the diet ordered by physicians for the sick. As that 


MEASURES TO RESIST PHILIP. 


789 


neither imparts strength, nor suffers the patient to die, so your 
allowances are not enough to be of substantial benefit, nor yet 
permit you to reject them and turn to something else. Thus do 
they increase the general apathy. What? I shall be asked, 
mean you stipendiary service? Yes, and forthwith the same ar¬ 
rangement for all, Athenians, that each, taking his dividend from 
the public, may be what the state requires. Is peace to be had? 
You are better at home, under no compulsion to act dishonor¬ 
ably from indigence. Is there such an emergency as the present? 
Better to be a soldier, as you ought, in your country’s cause, 
maintained by those very allowances. Is any one of you beyond 
the military age? What he now irregularly takes without doing 
service, let him take by just regulation, superintending and trans¬ 
acting needful business. Thus, without derogating from or 
adding to our political system, only removing some irregularity, 
I bring it into order, establishing a uniform rule for receiving 
money, for serving in war, for sitting on juries, for doing what 
each, according to his age, can do, and what occasion requires. 
I never advise we should give to idlers the wages of the diligent, 
or sit at leisure, passive and helpless, to hear that such a one’s 
mercenaries are victorious, as we now do. Not that I blame 
any one who does you a service; I only call upon you, Athenians, 
to perform upon your own account those duties for which you 
honor strangers, and not to surrender that post of dignity which, 
won through many glorious dangers, your ancestors have be- 

aueathed. 

j. 

I have said nearly all that I think necessary. I trust you 
will adopt that course which is best for the country and your- 
selves. 


790 


LITERATURE. 


FORMER ATHENIAN DE£CF(IBED. 

(.By Demosthenes.) 

I ask you, Athenians, to see how it was in the time of your 
ancestors; tor by domestic (not foreign) examples you may 
learn your lesson of duty. Themistocles who commanded in 
the sea-fight at Salamis, and Miltiades who led at Marathon, and 
many others, who performed services unlike the generals ot the 
present day—assuredly they were not set up in brass nor over¬ 
valued by our forefathers, who honored them, but only as persons 
on a level with themselves. Your forefathers, O my countrymen, 
surrendered not their part to any of those glories. There is no 
man who will attribute the victory of Salamis to Themistocles, 
but to the Athenians; nor the battle of Marathon to Miltiades, 
but to the republic. But now people say that Timotheus took 
Corcyra, and Iphicrates cut off the Spartan division, and Cha- 
brias won the naval victory at Naxos; for you seem to resign 
the merit of these actions, by the extravagance of the honors 
which you have bestowed on their account upon each of the 
commanders. 

So wisely did the Athenians of that day confer political 
rewards; so improperly do you. But how the rewards of for¬ 
eigners? To Menon the PharSalian, who gave twelve talents in 
money for the war at Eion by Amphipolis, and assisted them 
with two hundred horsemen of his own retainers, the Athenians 
then voted not the freedom of their city, but only granted im¬ 
munity from imposts. And in earlier times to Perdiccas, who 
reigned in Macedonia during the invasion of the Barbarian— 
when he had destroyed the Persians who retreated from Platsea 
after their defeat, and completed the disaster of the King—they 
voted not the freedom of their city, but only granted immunity 
from imposts; doubtless esteeming their country to be of high 




FORMER ATHENIANS DESCRIBED. 


79 1 


value, honor, and dignity, surpassing all possible obligation. But 
now, ye men of Athens, ye adopt the vilest of mankind, menials 
and the sons of menials, to be your citizens, receiving a price as 
for any other salable commodity. And you have fallen into such 
a practice, not because your natures are inferior to your ancestors, 
but because they were in a condition to think highly of them¬ 
selves, while from you, men of Athens, this power is taken away. 
It can never be, methinks, that your spirit is generous and noble, 
while you are engaged in petty and mean employments; no more 
than you can be abject and mean-spirited, while your actions are 
honorable and glorious. Whatever be the pursuits of men their 
sentiments must necessarily be similar. 

Mark what a summary view may be taken of the deeds 
performed by your ancestors and by you. Possibly from such 
comparison you may rise superior to yourselves. They for a 
period of five and forty years took the lead of the Greeks by 
general consent, and carried up more than ten thousand talents 
into the citadel; and many glorious trophies they erected for 
victories by land and sea, wherein even yet we take a pride. 
And remember, they erected these, not merely that we may sur¬ 
vey them with admiration, but, also, that we may emulate the 
virtues of the dedicators. Such was their conduct : but for ours 
—fallen as we have on a solitude manifest to you all—look if it 
bears any resemblance. Have not more than fifteen hundred 
talents been lavished ineffectually on the distressed people of 
Greece? Have not all private fortunes, the revenues of the 
state, the contributions from our allies, been squandered? Have 
not the allies, whom we gained in the war, been lost recently in 
the peace? But forsooth, in these respects only was it better 
anciently than now, in other respects worse. Very far from 
that! Let us examine what instances you please. The edifices 
which they left, the ornaments of the city in temples, harbors, 
and the like, were so magnificent and beautiful, that room is not 




79 2 


LITERATURE. 


left for any succeeding generation to surpass them; yonder gate- 
way, the Parthenon, docks, porticos, and others structures, which 
they adorned the city withal and bequeathed to us. The private 
houses of the men in power were so modest and in accordance 
with the name of the constitution, that if any one knows the 
style of house which Themistocles occupied, or Cimon, or Aris¬ 
tides, or Miltiades, and the illustrious of that day, he perceives 
it to be no grander than that of the neighbors. But now, ye 
men of Athens—as regards public measures—our government is 
content to furnish roads, fountains, whitewashing, and trumpery; 
not that I blame the authors of these works; far otherwise; I 
blame you, if you suppose that such measures are all you have 
to execute. As regards individual conduct—your men in office 
have (some of them) made their private houses, not only more 
ostentatious than the multitude, but more splendid than the pub¬ 
lic buildings; others are farming land which they have purchased 
of such an extent as once they never hoped for in a dream. 

The cause of this difference is, that formerly the people 
were lords and masters of all; any individual citizen was glad to 
receive from them his share of honor, office, or profit. Now, on 
the contrary, these persons are the disposers of emoluments; 
everything is done by their agency; the people are treated as 
underlings and dependents, and you are happy to take what these 
men allow you for your portion. • 


ORATION Oji THE CROWN. 

(By Demosthenes.) 

Let me begin, men of Athens, by imploring, of all the 
Heavenly Powers, that the same kindly sentiments which I have, 
throughout my public life, cherished towards this country and 






ORATION ON THE CROWN. 


793 


each one of you, may now by you be shown towards me in the 
present contest! In two respects my adversary plainly has the 
advantage of me. First, we have not the same interests at 
stake; it is by no means the same thing for me to forfeit your 
esteem, and for FEschines, an unprovoked volunteer, to fail in his 
impeachment. My other disadvantage is, the natural proneness 
of men to lend a pleased attention to invective and accusation, 
but to give little heed to him whose theme is his own vindica¬ 
tion. To my adversary, therefore, falls the part which ministers 
to your gratification, while to me there is only left that which, 
I ma}^ almost say, is distasteful to all. And yet, if I do not 
speak of myself and my own conduct, I shall appear defenseless 
against his charges, and without proof that my honors were well 
earned. This, therefore, I must do; but it shall be with modera¬ 
tion. And bear in mind that the blame of my dwelling on per¬ 
sonal topics must justly rest upon him who has instituted this 
personal impeachment. 

At least, my judges, you will admit that this question con¬ 
cerns me as much as Ctesiphon, and justifies on my part an equal 
anxiety. To be stripped of any possession, and more especially 
by an enemy, is grievous to bear, but to be robbed of your con¬ 
fidence and esteem—-ot all possessions the most precious—is 
indeed intolerable. Such, then, being my stake in this cause, I 
conjure you all to give ear to my defense against these charges, 
with that impartiality which the laws enjoin—those laws first 
given by Solon, and which he fixed, not only by engraving them 
on brazen tables, but by the sanction of the oaths you take 
when sitting in judgment; because he perceived that, the 
accuser being armed with the advantage of speaking first, the 
accused can have no chance of resisting his charges, unless you, 
his judges, keeping the oath sworn before Heaven, shall receive 
with favor the defense which comes last, and, lending an equal 
ear to both parties, shall thus make up your minds upon the 
whole of the case. 





794 


LITERATURE. 


CICERO. 


Cicero, taken all in all, for his eloquence, for his learning, 
for his true patriotism, for the profound and ennobling views he 
has left us in his critical, oratorical and philosophical writings, as 
well as for his purity in all the domestic relations of life, in the 
midst of almost universal profligacy, stands forth upon the 
page of history as one of the very brightest names the ancients 
have left us. He was probably distinguished most as an 
orator, in which character he is most generally known, though 
as a general scholar and statesman he was almost without a peer. 
He was born on the third of January, 106 B. C. His father was 
a member of the Equestrian order, and lived in easy circum¬ 
stances near Arpinum, but afterwards removed to Rome for the 
purpose of educating his sons, Marcus and Quintus. The very 
best teachers were procured for them. Almost immediately 
after his schooling he was promoted, and rose from one station 
of honor and distinction to another. 

It may be doubted whether any individual ever rose to 
power by more virtuous and truly honorable conduct, and the 
integrity of his public life was only equaled by the purity of his 
private morals. But as his history is taught to our school boys 
and his orations read in their original language, we will not 
lengthen our remarks. The following are his works. They are 
numerous and diversified, but may be arranged under five separate 
heads: i. Philosophical Works . 2. Speeches. 3. Corres¬ 
pondence. 4. Poems. 5. Historical and Miscellaneous Works. 
The following are the most important: 

First, his Philosophical Works. 1. De Inventione Rhe- 
torica , “On the Rhetorical Art;” intended to exhibit, in a com¬ 
pendious form, ail that are most valuable in the works of the 




Augustus cuesar. (Found at Pompeii .) 


795 




















































































































79 6 


LITERATURE. 


Grecian rhetoricians. 2. De P artitione Oratorio, Dialogus , 
“ A Dialogue on the several Divisions of Rhetoric,” a sort of 
catechism of rhetoric. 3. De Oratore, “On the True Orator,” 
a systematic work on the art of oratory. This is one of his 
most brilliant efforts, and so accurately finished in its minute 
parts, that it may be regarded as a masterpiece of skill in all 
that relates to the graces of style and composition. 4. Brutus: 
de Claris Oratoribus . This is in the form of a dialogue, and 
contains a complete critical history of Roman eloquence. 5. 
Orator , “ The Orator,” addressed to Marcus Brutus, giving his 
views as to what constitutes a perfect orator. 6 . De Republican 
“ On the Republic,” in six books, designed to show the best form 
of government and the duty of the citizen; but a considerable 
portion of this is lost. 7. De Officiis / a treatise on moral obliga¬ 
tions, viewed not so much with reference to a metaphysical in¬ 
vestigation of the basis on which they rest, as to the practical 
business of the world, and the intercourse of social and political 
life. This is one of his most precious legacies. 8. De Finibus 
Bonorum et Motor urn, “ On the 'Ends of Good and Evil,” a 
series of dialogues dedicated to M. Brutus, in which the opinions 
of the Grecian schools, especially of the Epicureans, the Stoics, 
and the Peripatetics, on the Supreme Good, the Summuni 
Bonum , that is, the finis , “the. end.” 


IJNVECTIVE AQAIN^T CATILINE. 

iBy Cicero.) 

How long, O Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience? How 
long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career? To what ex¬ 
treme wilt thou carry thy audacity? Art thou nothing daunted 
by the nightly watch, posted to secure the Palatium? Nothing, 



INVECTIVE AGAINST CATILINE. 


797 


by the city guards! Nothing, by the rally of all good citizens? 
Nothing, by the assembling of the senate in this fortified place? 
Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present? Seest thou 
not that all thy plots are exposed?—that thy wretched conspir¬ 
acy is laid bare to every man’s knowledge, here in the senate?— 
that we are well aware of thy proceedings of last night; of the 
night before; the place of meeting, the company convoked, the 
measures concerted? Alas, the times! Alas,the public morals! 
The senate understands all this. The Consul sees it. Yet the 
traitor lives! Lives? Ay, truly, and confronts us here in coun¬ 
cil; takes part in our deliberations; and, with his measuring eye, 
marks out each man of us for slaughter! And we, all this while, 
strenuous that we are, think we have amply discharged our duty 
to the state, if we but shun this madman’s sword and fury! 

Long since, O Catiline, ought the Consul to have ordered 
thee to execution, and brought upon thy own head the ruin thou 
hast been meditating against others! There was that virtue 
once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was held more execrable 
than the deadliest foe. We have a law still, Catiline, for thee. 
Think not that we are powerless because forbearing. We have 
a decree—though it rests among our archives like a sword in its 
scabbard—a decree by which thy life would be made to pay 
the forfeit of thy crimes. And, should I order thee to be in¬ 
stantly seized and put to death, I make just doubt whether all 
crood men would not think it done rather too late, than any man 
too cruelly. But, for good reasons, I will yet defer the blow, 
loner since deserved. Then will I doom thee, when no man is 
found so lost, so wicked, nay, so like thyself, but shall confess 
that it was justly dealt. While there is one man that dares 
defend thee, live! But thou shalt live so beset, so surrounded, 
so scrutinized, by the vigilant guards that I have placed around 
thee, that thou shalt not stir a foot against the Republic without 
my knowledge. There shall be eyes to detect thy slightest 






79» 


LITERATURE. 


movement, and ears to catch thy wariest whisper, of which 
thou shalt not dream. The darkness of night shall not cover 
thy treason—the walls of privacy shall not stifle its voice. Baf¬ 
fled on all sides, thy most secret counsels clear as noon-day, what 
canst thou now have in view? Proceed, plot, conspire, as thou 
wilt; there is nothing you can contrive, nothing you can propose, 
nothing you can attempt which I shall not know, hear, and 
promptly understand. Thou shalt soon be made aware that I 
am even more active in providing for the preservation of the 
' state than thou in plotting its destruction !—First Oration . 


EXPULSION Of CATILINE FROM ROJVIE. 

(By Cicero.) 

At length, Romans, we are rid of Catiline! We have 
driven him forth, drunk with fury, breathing mischief, threaten¬ 
ing to revisit us with fire and sword. He is gone; he is fled; he 
has escaped; he has broken away. No longer, within the very 
walls of the city, shall he plot her ruin. We have forced him 
from secret plots into open rebellion. The bad citizen is now 
the avowed traitor. His flight is the confession of his treason! 
Would that his attendants had not been so few! Be speedy, ye 
companions of his dissolute pleasures; be speedy, and you may 
overtake him before night, on the Aurelian road. Let him not 
languish, deprived of } r our society. Haste to join the congenial 
crew that compose his army; his army, I say—for who doubts 
that the army under Manlius expect Catiline for their leader? 
And such an army! Outcasts from honor, and fugitives from 
debt; gamblers and felons; miscreants, whose dreams are of 
rapine, murder, and conflagration! 

Against these gallant troops of your adversary, prepare, O 
Romans, your garrisons and armies; and first to that maimed 




EXPULSION OF CATILINE FROM ROME. 


799 


and battered gladiator oppose your consuls and generals; next, 
against that miserable, outcast horde, lead forth the strength and 
flower of all Italy! On the one side, chastity contends; on the 
other wantonness; here purity, there pollution; here integrity, 
there treachery; here piety, there profaneness; here constancy, 
there rage; here honesty, there baseness; here continence, there 
lust; in short, equity, temperance, fortitude, prudence, struggle 
with iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness; every virtue with 
every vice; and, lastly, the contest lies between well-grounded 
hope and absolute despair. In such a conflict, were even human 
aid to fail, would not the immortal gods empower such conspicu¬ 
ous virtue to triumph over such complicated vice ?—Second Ora - 
tion . 


THE TYRANT PRyETOF( DENOUNCED. 

(By Cicero.) 

An opinion has long prevailed, fathers, that, in public prose¬ 
cutions, men of wealth, however clearly convicted, are always 
safe. This opinion, so injurious to your order, so detrimental to 
the state, is now in your power to refute. A man is on trial 
before you who is rich, and who hopes his riches will compass 
his acquittal, but whose life and actions are sufficient condemna¬ 
tion in the eyes of all candid men. I speak of Caius Verres, 
who, if he now receive not the sentence his crimes deserve, it 
shall not be through the lack of a criminal or of a prosecutor, 
but through the failure of the ministers of justice to do their 
duty. Passing over the shameful irregularities of his youth, 
what does the quaestorship of Verres exhibit but one continued 
scene of villainies? The public treasure squandered, a Consul 
stripped and betrayed, an army deserted and reduced to want, 
a province robbed, the civil and religious rights of a people 



8 oo 


LITERATURE. 


trampled on! But his praetorship in Sicily has crowned his 
career of wickedness, and completed the lasting monument of his 
infamy. His decisions have violated all law, all precedent, all 
right. His extortions from the industrious poor have been be¬ 
yond computation. Our most faithful allies have been treated as 
enemies. Roman citizens have, like slaves, been put to death 
with tortures. Men the most worthy have been condemned and 
banished without a hearing, while the most atrocious criminals 
have, with money, purchased exemption from the punishment 
due to their guilt. 

I ask now, Verres, what have you to advance against these 
charges? Art thou not the tyrant praetor, who, at no greater 
distance than Sicily, within sight of the Italian coast, dared to 
put to an infamous death, on the cross, that ill-fated and innocent 
citizen, Publius Gavius Cosanus? And what was his offense? 
He had declared his intention of appealing to the justice of his 
country against your brutal persecutions! For this, when about 
to embark for home, he was seized, brought before you, charged 
with being a spy, scourged and tortured. In vain did he ex¬ 
claim: a I am a Roman citizen! I have served under Lucius 
Pretius, who is now at Panormus, and who will attest my inno¬ 
cence! 1 ’ Deaf to all remonstrance, remorseless, thirsting for 
innocent blood, you ordered the savage punishment to be in¬ 
flicted! While the sacred words, “ I am a Roman citizen,” were 
on his lips—words which, in the remotest regions, are a pass¬ 
port to protection—you ordered him to death, to a death upon 
the cross! 

O liberty! O sound once delightful to every Roman ear! 
O sacred privilege of Roman citizenship! once sacred—now 
trampled on! Is it come to this? Shall an inferior magistrate 
—a governor, who holds his whole power of the Roman people 
—in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, tor¬ 
ture, and put to an infamous death, a Roman citizen? Shall 







THE TYRANT PRT1TOR DENOUNCED. 


801 


neither the cries of innocence expiring in agony, the tears of 
pitying spectators, the majesty of the Roman commonwealth, 
nor the fear of the justice of this country, restrain the merciless 
monster, who, in the confidence of his riches, strikes at the very 
root of liberty, and sets mankind at defiance? And shall this 
man escape? Fathers, it must not be! It must not be, unless 
you would undermine the very foundations of social safety, 
strangle justice, and call down anarchy, massacre and ruin on 
the commonwealth .—Oration against Verves. 


ADVANTAQE? OF AQE. 

(By Cicero.) 

Indeed, old age is so far from being necessarily a state of 
languor and inactivity, that it generally continues to exert itself 
in that sort of occupation which was the favorite object of its 
pursuit in more vigorous years. I will add, that instances might 
be produced of men who, in this period of life, have successfully 
applied themselves even to the acquisition of some art of science 
to which they were before entirely strangers. Thus Solon in 
one of his poems, written when he was advanced in years, glories 
that “ he learned something every day he lived.’ 1 And old as I 
myself am, it is but lately that I acquired a knowledge of the 
Greek language; to which I applied with the more zeal and dili- 
o-ence as I had long entertained an earnest desire of becoming 
acquainted with the writings and characters of those excellent 
men, to whose examples I have occasionally appealed in the 
course of our present ^conversation. Thus, Soci ates, too, in his 
old age, learned to play upon the lyre, an art which the ancients 
did not deem unworthy of their application. If I have not fol¬ 
lowed the philosopher’s example in this instance (which, indeed, 

5 1 



802 


LITERATURE. 


I very much regret), I have spared, however, no pains to make 
myself master of the Greek language and learning. 

Inestimable, too, are the advantages of old age, if we con¬ 
template it in another point of view; if we consider it as deliver¬ 
ing us from the tyranny of lust and ambition; from the angry 
and contentious passions; from every inordinate and irrational 
desire; in a word, as teaching us to retire within ourselves, and 
look for happiness in our own bosoms. If to these moral bene¬ 
fits naturally resulting from length of days be added that sweet 
food of the mind which is gathered in the fields of science, I 
know not any season of life that is passed more agreeably than 
the learned leisure of a virtuous old age. 


IMMORTALITY OF THE £OUL. 

(By Cicero) 

And now, among the different sentiments of the philosophers 
concerning the consequences of our final dissolution, may I not 
venture to declare my own? and the rather, as the nearer death 
advances towards me, the more clearly I seem to discern its real 
nature. 

I am well convinced, then, that my dear departed friends, 
your two illustrious, fathers, are so far from having ceased to 
live, that the state they now enjoy can alone with propriety be 
called life . The soul, during her confinement within this prison 
of the body, is doomed by fate to undergo a severe penance; for 
her native seat is in heaven, and it is with reluctance that she is 
forced down from those celestial mansions’ into these lower re¬ 
gions, where all is foreign and repugnant to her divine nature. 
But the gods, I am persuaded, have thus widely disseminated 
immortal spirits, and clothed them with human bodies, that there 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 


803 

might be a race of intelligent creatures, not only to have domin¬ 
ion over this, our earth, but to contemplate the host of heaven, 
and imitate in their moral conduct the same beautiful order and 
uniformity so conspicuous in those splendid orbs. This opinion 
I am induced to embrace, not only as agreeable to the best de¬ 
ductions of reason, but in just deference, also, to the authority 
of the noblest and most distinguished philosophers. And I am 
further confirmed in my belief of the soul’s immortality by the 
discourse which Socrates—whom the oracle of Apollo pro¬ 
nounced to be the wisest of men—held upon this subject just 
before his death. In a word, when I consider the faculties with 
which the human mind is endued; its amazing celerity; its won¬ 
derful power in recollecting past events, and sagacity in discern¬ 
ing future; together with its numberless discoveries in the several 
arts and sciences, I feel a conscious conviction that this active, 
comprehensive principle can not possibly be of a mortal nature. 
And as this unceasing activity of the soul derives its energy 
* from its own intrinsic and essential powers, without receiving it 
from any foreign or external impulse, it necessarily follows (as it 
is absurd to suppose the soul would desert itself) that this ac¬ 
tivity must continue forever. But farther; as the soul is evi¬ 
dently a simple, uncompounded substance, without any dissimilar 
parts or heterogeneous mixture, it can not, therefore, be divided; 
consequently, it can not perish. I might add, that the facility 
and expedition with which youth are taught to acquire number¬ 
less very difficult arts, is a strong presumption that the soul pos¬ 
sessed a considerable portion of knowledge before it entered into 
the human form, and that what seems to be received from in¬ 
struction is, in fact, no other than a reminiscence or recollection • 
of its former ideas. This, at least, is the opinion of Plato. 




LITERATURE. 


JULIUS CAE£AF(. 

Julius Csesar was bom on the 12th of July, 100 B. C. As 
to his intellectual character, Caesar was gifted by nature with the 
most varied talents, and was distinguished by an extraordinary 
genius, and by attainments in very diversified pursuits. He 
was, at one and the same time, a general, a statesman, a law¬ 
giver, a jurist, an orator, a poet, an historian, a philologer, a 
mathematician, and an architect. He seemed equally fitted to 
excel in all, and has given proofs that he would surpass most 
men in any subject to which he should devote the energies 
of his great mind; and Middleton says he was the only man in 
Rome capable of rivaling Cicero as an orator. During his 
whole busy life he found time for literary pursuits, and always 
took pleasure in the society and conversation of men of learning. 

Caesar wrote many works on different subjects, but they are 
now all lost but his u Commentaries.” These relate the history 
of the first seven years of the Gallic War in seven books, and the 
Civil War down to the commencement of the Alexandrine in 
three books. The purity of his Latin, and the clearness and 
beauty of his style have rendered his “ Commentaries ” a most 
popular and desirable text book for students of the Latin' lan¬ 
guage. 

A most important change was introduced by him in the 
reformation of the calendar, which was not only of vast import¬ 
ance to his country and to the civilized world, but its benefits 
have extended to the present day. What consummate folly, 
then, to say nothing of the wickedness, was displayed by the 
conspirators who put him to death; for instead of the wise, the 
noble, the magnanimous, they exalted to supreme power one of 
the basest men in all Rome—Augustus, who, as one of the sec- 


JULIUS CLESAR. 



one! Triumvirate, consented to the murder of his intimate and 
noble friend, Cicero. 



julius C/ESAR. (From an Ancient Sculpturing.) 


THE QEF(1VI/\N£. 

{By Julius Ccesar.) 

The Germans differ much from these usages, for they have 
neither Druids to preside over sacred offices, nor do they pay 
great regard to sacrifices. They rank in the number of the 
gods those alone whom they behold, and by whose instrumental¬ 
ity they are obviously benefited, namely, the sun, fire, and the 
moon; they have not heard of the other deities even by report. 





























8 o6 


LITERATURE. 


Their whole life is occupied in hunting and in the pursuits ol the 
military art; from childhood they devote themselves to fatigue 
and hardships. Those who have remained chaste for the longest 
time receive the greatest commendation among their people; 
they think that by this the growth is promoted, by this the phys¬ 
ical powers are increased and the sinews are strengthened. 

They do not pay much attention to agriculture, and a large 
portion of their food consists in milk, cheese, and flesh; nor has 
any one a fixed quantity of land or his own individual limits; but 
the magistrates and the leading men each year apportion to the 
tribes and families, who have united together, as much land as, 
and in the place which, they think proper, and the year after 
compel them to remove elsewhere. For this enactment they 
advance many reasons—lest seduced by long-continued custom, 
they may exchange their ardor in the waging of war for agri¬ 
culture; lest they may be anxious to acquire extensive estates, 
and the more powerful drive the weaker from their possessions; 
lest they construct their houses with too great a desire to avoid 
cold and heat; lest the desire of wealth spring up, from which 
cause divisions and discords arise; and that they may keep the 
common people in a contented state of mind, when each sees his 
own means placed on an equality with those of the most power¬ 
ful. 

It is the greatest glory to the several states to have as wide 
deserts as possible around them, their frontiers having been laid 
waste. They consider this the real evidence of their prowess, 
that their neighbors shall be driven out of their lands and aban¬ 
don them, and that no one dare settle near them; at the same 
time they think that they shall be on that account the more 
secure, because they have removed the apprehension of a sudden 
incursion. When a state either repels war waged against it, or 
wages it against another, magistrates are chosen to preside over 
that war with such authority that they have power of life and 



THE GERMANS. 


807 


death. In peace there is no common magistrate, but the chiefs 
of provinces and cantons administer justice and determine con¬ 
troversies among their own people. Robberies which are com¬ 
mitted beyond the boundaries of each state bear no infamy, and 
they avow that these are committed for the purpose of disciplin¬ 
ing their youth and of preventing sloth. And when any of their 
chiefs has said in an assembly u that he will be their leader, let 
those who are willing to follow give in their names,’ 1 they who 
approve of both the enterprise and the man arise and promise 
their assistance and are applauded by the people; such of them 
as have not followed him are accounted in the number of desert¬ 
ers and traitors, and confidence in all matters is afterwards re¬ 
fused them. To injure guests they regard as impious; they 
defend from wrong those who have come to them for any purpose 
whatever, and esteem them inviolable; to them the houses of all 
are open and maintenance is freely supplied 


BATTLE Of PHARfALIA. 

(By Julius Ccesar.) 

There was so much space left between the two lines as suf¬ 
ficed for the onset of the hostile armies; but Pompey had ordered 
his soldiers to await Caesar’s attack, and not to advance from 
their position, or suffer their line to be put into disorder. And 
he is said to have done this by the advice of Caius Triarius, that 
the impetuosity of the charge of Caesar’s soldiers might be 
checked, and their line broken, and that Pompey’s troops, re¬ 
maining in their ranks, might attack them while in disorder; and 
he thought that the javelins would fall with less force if the 
soldiers were kept in their ground, than if they met them in their 
course; at the same time he trusted that Caesar’s soldiers, after 



8 o8 


LITERATURE. 


running over double the usual ground, would become weary and 
exhausted by the fatigue. But to me Pompey seems to have 
acted without sufficient reason; for there is a certain impetuosity 
of spirit and an alacrity implanted by nature in the hearts of all 
men, which is inflamed by a desire to meet the foe. This a gen¬ 
eral should endeavor not to repress, but to increase; nor was it a 
vain institution of our ancestors that the trumpets should sound 

on all sides, and a general shout be raised; by which they im- 

'• 

agined that the enemy were struck with terror, and their own 
army inspired with courage. 

But our men, when the signal was given, rushed forward 
with their javelins ready to be launched,, but perceiving that 
Pompey’s men did not run to meet their charge, having acquired 
experience by custom, and being practiced in former battles, 
they of their own accord repressed their speed, and halted 
almost midway, that they might not come up with the enemy 
when their strength was exhausted, and after a short respite they 
again renewed their course, and threw their javelins, and in¬ 
stantly drew their swords, as Caesar had ordered them. Nor 

% 

did Pompey’s men fail in this crisis, for they received our jave¬ 
lins, stood our charge, and maintained their ranks; and having 
launched their javelins, had recourse to their swords. At the 
same time Pompey’s horse, according to their orders, rushed out 
at once from his left wing, and his whole host of archers poured 
after them. Our cavalry did not withstand their charge, but gave 
ground a little, upon which Pompey’s horse pressed them more 
vigorously, and began to file off in troops, and flank our army. 
When Csesar perceived this, he gave the signal to his fourth line, 
which he had formed of the six cohorts. They instantly rushed 
forward and charged Pompey’s horse with such fury that not a 
man of them stood; but all wheeling about, not only quitted 
their post, but galloped forward to seek a refuge in the highest 
mountains. By their retreat the archers and slingers, being left 


BATTLE OF PHARSALIA. 


809 

destitute and defenseless, were all cut to pieces. The cohorts, 
pursuing their success, wheeled about upon Pompey’s left wing, 
whilst his infantry still continued to make battle, and attacked 
them in the rear. 

At the same time Caesar ordered his third line to advance, 
which till then had not been engaged, but had kept their post. 
Thus, new and fresh troops having come to the assistance of the 
fatigued, and others having made an attack on their rear, Pom¬ 
pey’s men were not able to maintain their ground, but all fled, 
nor was Caesar deceived in his opinion that the victory, as he 
had declared in his speech to his soldiers, must have its begin¬ 
ning from those six cohorts, which he had placed as a fourth line 
to oppose the horse. For by them the cavalry were routed; by 
them the archers and slingers were cut to pieces; by them the 
left wing of Pompey’s army was surrounded, and obliged to be 
the first to flee. But when Pompey saw his cavalry routed, and 
that part of his army on which he reposed his greatest hopes 
thrown into confusion, despairing of the rest, he quitted the held, 
and retreated straightway on horseback to his camp, and calling 
to the centurions, whom he had placed to guard the praetorian 
gate, with a loud voice, that the soldiers might hear: u Secure 
the camp,” says he; “ defend it with diligence, if any danger 
should threaten it; I will visit the other gates, and encourage the 
guards of the camp.” Having thus said, he retired into his tent 
in utter despair, yet anxiously waiting the issue. 

Caesar having forced the Pompeians to flee into their en¬ 
trenchment, and thinking that he ought not to allow them any 
respite to recover from their fright, exhorted his soldiers to 
take advantage of fortune’s kindness, and to attack the camp. 
Though they were fatigued by the intense heat, for the battle 
had continued till mid-day, yet, being prepared to undergo any 
labor, they cheerfully obeyed his command. The camp was 
bravely defended by the cohorts which had been left to guard it, 


8 io 


LITERATURE. 


but with much more spirit by the Thracians and foreign auxil¬ 
iaries. For the soldiers who had tied for reluge to it from the 
field of battle, affrighted and exhausted by fatigue, having 
thrown away their arms and military standards, had their 
thoughts more engaged on their further escape than on the de¬ 
fense of the camp. Nor could the troops who were posted on 
the battlements long withstand the immense number of our darts, 
but fainting under their wounds, quitted the place, and under the 
conduct of their centurions and tribunes, lied, without stopping, 
to the high mountains which joined the camp. 

In Pompey’s camp you might see arbors in which tables 
were laid; a large quantity of plate set out; the doors ot the 
tents covered with fresh sods; the tents of Lucius Lentulus and 
others shaded with ivy; and many other things which were 
proofs of excessive luxury, and a conddence of victory; so that 
it might readily be inferred, that they had no apprehensions of 
the issue of the day, as they indulged themselves in unnecessary 
pleasures, and yet upbraided with luxury Caesar’s army, dis¬ 
tressed and suffering troops, who had always been in want of 
common necessaries. Pompey, as soon as our men had forced 
the trenches, mounting his horse, and stripping od' his general’s 
habit, went hastily out of the back gate of the camp, and gal¬ 
loped with all speed to Larissa. Nor did he stop there, but 
with the same dispatch, collecting a few of his dying troops, and 
halting neither day nor night, he arrived at the sea-side, attended 
by only thirty horses, and went on board a victualing barque, 

V 

often complaining, as we have been toljl, that he had been so 
deceived in his expectation, that he was almost persuaded that 
he had been betrayed by those from whom he had expected vic¬ 
tory, as they began the dight. 


VIRGIL. 


811 


VIF^QIL. 

Virgil was born October 15, 70 B. C., and died 19 B. C. 
His father was an opulent farmer, and gave his son a liberal 
Greek and Latin education. His principal works were the 
Georgica and the EEneid. The Georgica (Georgies), or “Agri¬ 
cultural Poems,” is a didactic poem in four books, dedicated to 
Maecenas. In the first book he treats of the cultivation of the 
soil; in the second, of fruit trees; in the third, of horses and 
other cattle, and in the fourth, of bees. It gives us the most 
finished specimen of the Latin hexameter which we have. It is 
acknowledged by scholars to stand at the head of all Virgil’s 
works, and is certainly the most elaborate and extraordinary in¬ 
stance of power in embellishing a most barren subject which 
human genius has ever afforded. The commonest precepts of 
farming are delivered with an elegance which could scarcely be 
attained by a poet who should endeavor to clothe in verse the 
sublimest maxims of philosophy. 

At what time Virgil projected the EEneid is uncertain, but 
from a very early age he appears to have had a strong desire of 
composing an epic poem which would be an enduring monument 
of his fame. And he has succeeded, for this poem is ranked as 
one of the great epics of the world. It is divided into twelve 
books, and originates from an old Roman tradition that ^Lneas 
and his company of Trojans settled in Italy, and founded the 

Roman nation. 


PRAIJ5E Of RUFpL LIFE. 

(By Virgil.) 

Thrice happy swains! whom genuine pleasures bless, 
If they but knew and felt their happiness! 



8 l2 


LITERATURE. 


From wars and discord far, and public strife, 

Earth with salubrious fruits supports their life; 

Tho’ high-arch’d domes, tho’ marble halls they want, 
And columns cased in gold and elephant, 

In awful ranks where brazen statues stand, 

The polish’d works of Grecia’s skillful hand; 

Nor dazzling palace view, whose portals proud 
Each morning vomit out the cringing crowd; 

Nor wear the tissu’d garment’s cumb’rous pride, 

Nor seek soft wool in Syrian purple dy’d, 

Nor with fantastic luxury defile 

The native sweetness of the liquid oil; 

Yet calm content, secure from guilty cares, 

Yet home-felt pleasure, peace, and rest, are theirs; 
Leisure and ease, in groves, and cooling vales, 
Grottoes, and bubbling brooks, and darksome dales; 
The lowing oxen, and the bleating sheep, 

And under branching trees delicious sleep! 

There forests, lawns, and haunts of beasts abound, 
There youth is temperate, and laborious found; 

There altars and the righteous gods are fear’d, 

And aged sires by duteous sons rever’d. 

There Justice linger’d ere she fled mankind, 

And left some traces of her reign behind! 

Georgies II. 


EJVIPL0YMEJ\|Tj5 OF THE BEE. 

(By Virgil.) 

If all things with great we may compare, 
Such are the bees, and such their busy care: 
Studious of honey, each in his degree, 

The youthful swain, the grave, experienced tee; 
That in the field; this in affairs of state, 
Employed at home, abides within the gate, 

To fortify the combs, to build the wall, 


War ton. 









EMPLOYMENT OF THE BEE 



1 


To prop the ruins, lest the fabric fall: 

But late at night, with weary pinions come 



VIRGIL AND HORACE. 


The laboring youth, and heavy laden home. 
Plains, meads, and orchards, all the day he plies, 









































































































































































































































































































































LITERATURE. 


The gleans of yellow thyme distend his thighs: 

He spoils the saffron flowers, he sips the blues 
Of violets, wilding blooms, and willow dews. 

Their toil is common, common is their sleep; 

They shake their wings when morn begins to peep; 

Rush through the city gates without delay, 

Nor ends their work but with declining day: 

Then, having spent the last remains of light, 

They give their bodies due repose at night; 

When hollow murmurs of their evening bells 
Dismiss the sleepy swains, and toll them to their cells. 

Georgies IV. Dry den. 


PUNISHMENTS IN HELL. 

{By Virgil.) 

Now to the left, iEneas darts his eyes, 

Where lofty walls with tripple ramparts rise. 

There rolls swift Phlegethon, with thund’ring sound, 
His broken rocks, and whirls his surges round. 

On mighty columns rais’d, sublime are hung 
The massy gates, impenetrably strong. 

In vain would men, in vain would gods essay, 

To hew the beams of adamant away. 

Here rose an iron tow’r; before the gate, 

By night and day, a wakeful fury sate, 

The pale Tisiphone; a robe she wore, 

With all the pomp of horror, dy’d in gore. 

Here the loud scourge and louder voice of pain, 

The crashing fetter, and the ratt’ling chain, 

Strike the great hero with the frightful sound, 

The hoarse, rough, mingled din, that thunders round: 
Oh! whence that peal of groans? what pains are those? 
What crimes could merit such stupendous woes? 

Thus she—brave guardian of the Trojan state, 

None that are pure must pass that dreadful gate. 



PUNISHMENTS IN HELL. 


815 


When plac’d by Hecat o’er Avernus’ woods, 

I learnt the secrets of those dire abodes, 

With all the tortures of the vengeful gods. 

Here Rhadamanthus holds his awful reign, 

Hears and condemns the trembling impious train. 

Those hidden crimes the wretch till death supprest, 

With mingled joy and horror in his breast, 

The stern dread judge commands him to display, 

And lays the guilty secrets bare to-day; 

Her lash Tisiphone that moment shakes; 

The ghost she scourges with a thousand snakes; 

Then to her aid, with many a thund’ring yell, 

Calls her dire sisters from the gulfs of hell. 

Near by the mighty Tityus I beheld, 

Earth’s mighty giant son, stretch’d o’er the infernal field; 
He cover’d nine large acres as he lay, 

While with fierce screams a vulture tore away 

His liver for her food, and scoop’d the smoking prey; 

Plunged deep her bloody beak, nor plu*ng’d in vain, 

For still the fruitful fibres spring again, 

Swell, and renew th’ enormous monster’s pain, 

She dwells forever in his roomy breast, 

Nor gives the roaring fiend a moment’s rest; 

But still th’ immortal prey supplies th’ immortal feast. 

, Need I the Lapiths’ horrid pains relate, 

Ixion’s torments, or Perithous’fate? 

On high a tottering rocky fragment spreads, 

Projects in air, and trembles o’er their heads. 

Stretch’d on the couch, they see with longing eyes 
In regal pomp successive banquets rise, 

While lucid columns, glorious to behold, 

Support th’ imperial canopies of gold. 

The queen of furies, a tremendous guest, 

Sits by their side, and guards the tempting feast, 

Which if they touch, her dreadful torch she rears, 
Flames in their eyes, and thunders in their ears. 

They that on earth had low pursuits in view, 

Their brethren hated, or their parents slew, 

And, still more numerous, those who swelled their store, 


8i6 


LITERATURE. 


But ne’er reliev’d their kindred or the poor; 

Or in a cause unrighteous fought and bled; 

Or perish’d in the foul adulterous bed; 

Or broke the ties of faith with base deceit; 

Imprison’d deep their destin’d torments wait. 

But what their torments, seek not thou to know, 

Or the dire sentence of their endless wo. 

Some roll a stone, rebounding down the hill, 

Some hang suspended on the whirling wheel; 

There Theseus groans in pain that ne’er expire, 

Chain’d down forever in a chair of fire. 

There Phlegyas feels unutterable wo. 

And roars incessant thro’ the shades below; 

Be just, ye mortals! by these torments aw’d, 

These dreadful torments, not to scorn a god. 

This wretch his country to a tyrant sold, 

And barter’d glorious liberty for gold. 

Laws for a bribe he past, but past in vain, 

For those same laws a bribe repeal’d again. 

To some enormous crimes they all aspir’d; 

All feel the torments that those crimes requir’d! 

Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, 

A voice of brass, and adamantine lungs, 

Not half the mighty scene could I disclose, 

Repeat their crimes, or count their dreadful woes! 

JEneid VI. Pitt. 


HORACE. 

Horace was born 65 B. C. and died 8 B. C. His father 
gave him a good education. About the age of seventeen he lost 
his father, and afterwards his property was confiscated. He 
had to write for bread —Paupertas impulit andax ut versus 
facerem —and in so doing gained much reputation, and sufficient 
means to purchase the place of scribe in the Quaestor’s office. 




HORACE. 


817 

He now made his acquaintance with Virgil and Varius, and by 
them was introduced to that munificent patron of scholars, 
Maecenas, who gave to our poet a place next to his heart, while 
he, in return, is never weary of acknowledging how much he 
owes to his illustrious friend. 

The following happy remarks on the Roman Satirists are 
by Professor Sanborn, formerly Professor of Latin in Dartmouth 
College, and now in the University of St. Louis: u The princi¬ 
pal Roman Satirists were Horace, Juvenal and Persius. Horace 
is merry; Persius serious; Juvenal indignant. Thus, wit, philoso¬ 
phy and lofty scorn mark their respective pages. The satire of 
Horace was playful and good natured. His arrows were always 
dipped in oil. He was a fine specimen of an accomplished gen¬ 
tleman. His sentiments were evidently modified by his asso¬ 
ciates. He was an Epicurean and a stoic by turns. He com¬ 
mended and ridiculed both sects. He practiced economy and 
praised liberality. He lived temperate, and sang the praises of 
festivity. He was the favorite of the court and paid for its 
patronage in compliments and panegyrics, unsurpassed in delicacy 
of sentiment and beauty of expression. Horace is every man’s 
companion. Pie has a word of advice and admonition for all. 
Plis criticisms constitute most approved canons of the rhetori¬ 
cian; his sage reflections adorn the page of the moralist; his 
humor and wit give point and force to the satirist, and his graver 
maxims are not despised by the Christian philosopher. Juvenal 
is fierce and denunciatory. Plis characteristics are energy, 
force, and indignation; his weapons are irony, wit and sarcasm; 
he is a decided character, and you must yield and submit, or 
resist. His denunciations of vice are startling. He hated the 
Greeks, the aristocracy and woman with intense hatred. No 
author has written with such terrible bitterness of the sex. Un¬ 
like other satirists, he never relents. His arrow is ever on the 
string, and whatever wears the guise of woman is his game. 

5 2 


8i8 


LITERATURE. 


The most celebrated of the modern imitators of Horace and 
Juvenal are Swift and Pope.” 

The Odes, Satires and Epistles are his chief productions. 


TO LICIJNlIUg. 

{By Horace.) 

Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach 
So shalt thou live beyond the reach 
Of adverse Fortune’s power; 

Not always tempt the distant deep, 

Nor always timorously creep 

Along the treacherous shore. 

He that holds fast the golden mean, 

And lives contentedly between 
The little and the great, 

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, 

Nor plagues that haunt the rich man’s door, 
Embittering all his state. 

The tallest pines feel most the power 
Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tower 
Comes heaviest to the ground; 

The bolts that spare the mountain’s side, 

His cloud-capt eminence divide, 

And spread the ruin round. 

The well-in form’d philosopher 
Rejoices with an wholesome fear, 

And hopes, in spite of pain; 

If Winter bellow from the north, 

Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth, 
And Nature laughs again. 



TO LICINIUS. 


V 



What if thine heaven be overcast? 

The dark appearance will not last; 

Expect a brighter sky; 

The god, that strings the silver bow, 

Awakes sometimes the Muses, too, 

And lays his arrows by. 

If hindrances obstruct thy way, 

Thy magnanimity display, 

And let thy strength be seen; 

But oh! if Fortune fill thy sail 
With more than a propitious gale, 

Take half thy canvas in. 

Cowper . 


TO PYF^HA. 

(By Horace.) 

What youth, O Pyrrha! blooming fair, 

With rose-twined wreath and perfumed hair, 
Woos thee beneath yon grotto’s shade, 

Urgent in prayer and amorous glance? 

For whom dost thou thy tresses braid, 

Simple in thine elegance? 

Alas! full soon shall he deplore 

Thy broken faith, thy altered mien: 

Like one astonished at the roar 
Of breakers on a leeward shore, 

Whom gentle airs and skies serene 
Had tempted on the treacherous deep, 

So he thy perfidy shall weep 
Who now enjoys thee fair and kind, 

But dreams not of the shifting wind. 

Thrice wretched they, deluded and betrayed, 
Who trust thy glittering smile and Siren tongue! 
I have escaped the shipwreck, and have hung 



820 


LITERATURE. 


In Neptune’s fane my dripping vest displayed 
With votive tablet on his altar laid, 

Thanking the sea-god for his timely aid. 

Lord Lavensworth. 


SENECA. 

Seneca was born 7 B. C. and died 65 A. D. His writings 
were of a philosophical nature. His character was much 
doubted. His great misfortune was to have known Nero, who 
ordered him to be put to death, to which he merely replied that 
lie who had murdered his brother and his mother could not be 
expected to spare his teacher. He had been absent from Rome 
some time, and when he returned to visit his mother in the 
country, he was spied, and Nero sent a squad of armed men 
to the house to ask him to choose the manner of his death. 
His fame rests on his numerous writings, which, with all their 
faults, have great merits. His principal works, which are of 
a philosophical character, are essays “On Anger,” “ On 
Consolation,” u On Providence,” “ On Tranquillity of Mind,” 
“On the Firmness of the Wise Man,” “On Clemency,” 
u On the Brevity of Human Life,” “ On a Happy Life,” 
etc., together with “ Epistles of Lucilius,” one hundred and 
twenty-four in number. Besides these, there are extant ten 
tragedies attributed to him, entitled, Hercules Furens , Thyestes , 
Thebais or Phmnissce , Hippolytus or Phcedra , Gddipus , 
Troades or Hecuba , Medea , Agamemnon, Hercules CEtccus 
and Octavia. These were never intended for the sta^e, but 
were designed for reading or recitation, after the Roman 
fashion. They contain many striking passages, and have some 
merits as poems. 



HAPPINESS FOUNDED ON WISDOM. 


821 


. Hy\PPIJiEj3j5 FOUNDED ON WISD0JV1. 

(By Seneca.) 

Taking it for granted that human happiness is founded upon 
'wisdom and virtue , we shall treat of these two points in order 
as they lie, and first of wisdom / not in the latitude of its vari¬ 
ous operations, but only as it has a regard to good life and the 
happiness of mankind. 

Wisdom is a right understanding; a faculty of discerning 
good from evil; what is to be chosen, and what rejected; a judg¬ 
ment grounded upon the value of things, and not the common 
opinion of them; an equality of force and strength of resolution. 
It sets a watch over our words and deeds, it takes us up with the 
contemplation of the works of nature, and makes us invincible 
by either good or evil fortune. It is large and spacious, and re¬ 
quires a great deal of room to work in; it ransacks heaven and 
earth; it has for its object things past and to come, transitory and 
eternal. It examines all the circumstances of time; “ what it is, 
when it began, and how long it will continue;” and so for the 
mind; u whence it came; what it is; when it begins; how long it 
lasts; whether or no it passes from one form to another, or serves 
only one, and wanders when it leaves us; where it abides in the 
state of separation, and what the action of it; what use it makes 
of its liberty; whether or no it retains the memory of things 
past, and comes to the knowledge of itself.” It is the habit of 
a perfect mind and the perfection of humanity, raised as high as 
nature can carry it. It differs from philosophy , as avarice and 
money; the one desires, and the other is desired; the one is the 
effect and the reward of the other. To be wise is the use of 
wisdom, as seeing is the use of eyes and well-speaking the use 
of eloquence. He that is perfectly wise is perfectly happy; nay, 
the very beginning of wisdom makes life easy to us. Neither 


822 


LITERATURE. 


is it enough to know this, unless we print it in our minds by 
daily meditation, and so bring a good 'will to a good habit. 
And we must practice what we preach, for philosophy is not a 
subject for popular ostentation, nor does it rest in words, but in 
things. It is not an entertainment taken up for delight, or to 
give a taste to leisure, but it fashions the mind, governs our ac¬ 
tions, tells us what we are to do, and what not. It sits at the 
helm, and guides us through all hazards; nay, we can not be 
safe without it, for every hour gives us occasion to make use of 
it. It informs us in all the duties of life, piety to our parents, 
faith to our friends, charity to the miserable, judgment in coun¬ 
sel ; it gives us peace , by fearing nothing, and riches , by coveting 
nothing. 

There is no condition of life that excludes a wise man from 
discharging his duty. If his fortune be good, he tempers it; if 
bad, he masters it; if he has an estate, he will exercise his virtue 
in plenty, if none, in poverty; if he can not do it in his country, 
he will doit in banishment; if he has no command, he will do the 
office of a common soldier. Some people have the skill of re¬ 
claiming the fiercest of beasts: they will make a lion embrace 
his keeper, a tiger kiss nim, and an elephant kneel to him. This 
is the case of a wise man in the extremest difficulties; let them 
be never so terrible in themselves, when they come to him once, 
they are perfectly tame. They that ascribe the invention of til¬ 
lage, architecture, navigation, etc., to wise men, may perchance 
be in the right, that they were invented by wise men; but they 
were not invented by wise men, as wise men / for wisdom does 
not teach our fingers, but our minds: fiddling and dancing, arms 
and fortifications, were the works of luxury and discord; but 
wisdom instructs us in the way of nature, and in the arts of unity 
and concord; not in the instruments, but in the government of 
life; nor to make us live only, but to live happily. She teaches 
us what things are good, what evil, and what only appear so; and 


HAPPINESS FOUNDED ON WISDOM. 823 

to distinguish betwixt true greatness and tumor. She clears our 
minds of dross and vanity; she raises up our thoughts to heaven, 
and carries them down to hell; she discourses on the nature of 
the soul, the powers and faculties of it; the first principles of 
things; the order of providence: she exalts us from things cor¬ 
poreal to things incorporeal; and retrieves the truth of all: she 
searches nature, gives laws to life; and tells us., u that it is not 
enough to know God unless we obey Him.” She looks upon all 
accidents as acts of providence; sets a true value upon things; 
delivers us from false opinions, and condemns all pleasures that 
are attended with repentance. She allows nothing to be good 
that will not be so forever; no man to be happy but he that needs 
no other happiness than what he has within himself; no man to 
be great or powerful, that is not master of himself;—and this is 
the felicity of human life; a felicity that can neither be corrupted 
nor extinguished. 


AQAIN^T RAjBH JUDQJV1ENT. 

(By Seneca.) 

It is good for every man to fortify himself on his weak side; 
and if he loves his peace, he must not be inquisitive and harken 
to tale-bearers; for the man that is over-curious to hear and see 
everything, multiplies troubles to himself; for a man does not feel 
what he does not know. He that is listening after private dis- 

' a 

course, and what people say of him, shall never be at peace. 
How many things that are innocent in themselves, are made in¬ 
jurious yet by misconstruction? Wherefore some things we 
are to pause upon, others to laugh at, and others again to pardon. 
Or if we can not avoid the sense of indignities, let us, however, 
shun the open profession of it; which may be easily done, as ap- 


1 





824 


LITERATURE. 


pears by many examples of those who have suppressed their 
anger, under the awe of a greater fear. It is a good caution not 
to believe anything until you are very certain of it; for many 
probable things prove false, and a short time will make evidence 
of the undoubted truth. We are prone to believe many things 
which we are unwilling to hear, and so we conclude, and take up 

a prejudice before we can judge. 
Never condemn a friend unheard; or 
without letting him. know his accuser, , 
or his crime. It is a common thins: to 
say, “ Do not tell that you had it from 
me; for if you do, I will deny it; and 
never tell you anything again.” By 
which means friends are set together 
by the ears, and the informer slips his 
neck out of the collar. Admit no 
stories, upon these terms; for it is an 
unjust thing to believe in private, and be angry openly. He that 
delivers himself up to guess and conjecture, runs a great hazard; 
for there can be no suspicion without some probable grounds; so 
that without much candor and simplicity, and making the best 
of everything, there is no living in society with mankind. Some 
things that offend us we have by report; others we see or hear. 

In the first case, let us not be too credulous; some people frame 
stories that may deceive us; others only tell us what they hear, 
and are deceived themselves; some make it their sport to do ill 
offices; others do them only to receive thanks; there are some 
that would part the dearest friends in the world; others love to do 
mischief, and stand off aloof to see what comes of it. If it be 
a small matter, I would have witnesses; but if it be a greater, I 
would have it upon oath, and allow time to the accused, and 
counsel, too, and hear it over and over again. 



EUCLID. 


THE EQUALITY OF MAN. 


825 


THE EQUALITY Of JV1AJM. 

(.By Seneca.) 

It is not well done to be still murmuring against nature and 
fortune, as if it were their unkindness that makes you incon¬ 
siderable, when it is only by your own weakness that you make 
yourself so; for it is virtue, not pedigree, that renders a man 
either valuable or happy. Philosophy does not either reject or 
choose any man for his quality. Socrates was no patrician , 
Cleanthes but an under-gardener / neither did Plato dignify 
philosophy by his birth, but by his goodness. All these worthy 
men are our progenitors , if we will but do ourselves the honor 
to become their disciples. The original of all mankind was the 
same, and it is only a clear conscience that makes any man 
noble, for that derives even from heaven itself. It is the saying 
of a orreat man, that if we could trace our descents we should 
find all slaves to come from princes and all princes from slaves. 
But fortune has turned all things topsy-turvy, in a long story of 
revolutions. It is most certain that our beginning had nothing 
before it, and our ancestors were some of them splendid, others 
sordid, as it happened. We have lost the memorials of our ex¬ 
traction; and, in truth, it matters not whence we come, but 
whither we go. Nor is it any more to our honor the glory 
of our predecessors, than it is to their shame the wickedness of 
their posterity. We are all of us composed of the same ele¬ 
ments; why should we, then, value ourselves upon our nobility of 
blood, as if we were not all of us equal, if we could but recover 
our evidence? But when we can carry it no farther, the herald 
provides us some hero to supply the place of an illustrious 
original, and there is the rise of arms and families. For a man 
to spend his life in pursuit of a title, that serves only when he 
dies, to furnish out an epitaph , is below a wise man’s business. 


826 


LITERATURE. 


ALL THINQ5 ORDERED BY QOD. 

(By Seneca.) 

Every man knows without telling, that this wonderful fabric 
of the universe is not without a Governor, and that a constant 
order can not be the work of chance, for the parts would then fall 
foul one upon another. The motions of the stars, and their in¬ 
fluences, are acted by the command of an eternal decree. It is 
by the dictate of an Almighty Power, that the heavy body of 
the earth hano-s in balance. Whence come the revolutions of 

o 

the seasons and the dux of the rivers? the wonderful virtue of 
the smallest seeds ? as an oak to arise from an acorn. To say 

p 

nothing of those things that seem to be most irregular and un¬ 
certain; as clouds, rain, thunder, the eruptions of bre out of 
mountains, earthquakes, and those tumultuary motions in the 
lower region of the air, which have their ordinate causes, and so 
have those things, too, which appear to us more admirable be¬ 
cause less frequent; as scalding fountains and new islands started 
out of the sea; or what shall we say of the ebbing and bowing 
out of the ocean, the constant times and measures of the tides, 
according to the changes of the moon that induences most 
bodies; but this needs not, for it is not that we doubt of provi¬ 
dence, but complain of it. And it were a good office to recon¬ 
cile mankind to the gods, who are undoubtedly best to the best. 
It is against nature that good should hurt good. A good man 
is not only the friend of God, but the very image, the disciple, 
and the imitator of Him, and a true child of his heavenly Father. 
He is true to himself, and acts with constancy and resolution. 


PLUTARCH. 


827 


PLUTARCH. . 

Plutarch was born A. D. 90, in Chseronea, a city of Bceotia. 
To him wc are indebted for so many of the lives of the philoso¬ 
phers, poets, orators and generals of antiquity. No book has 
been more generally sought after or read with greater avidity 
than “ Plutarch’s Lives.” Plowever ancient, either Greek or 
Latin, none has received such a universal popularity. But the 
character of Plutarch himself, not less than his method of writ¬ 
ing biography, explains his universal popularity, and gives its 
special charm and value to his book. He was a man of large 
and generous nature, of strong feeling, of refined tastes, of quick 
perceptions. His mind had been cultivated in the acquisition of 
the best learning of his times, and was disciplined by the study 
of books as well as of men. He deserves the title of philoso¬ 
pher; but his philosophy was of a practical rather than a specula¬ 
tive character—though he was versed in the wisest doctrines of 
the great masters of ancient thought, and in some of his moral 
works shows himself their not unworthy follower. Above all, 
he was a man of cheerful and genial temper. A lover of justice 
and of liberty, his sympathies are always on the side of what is 
right, noble and honorable. 

He was educated at Delphi and improved himself by the 
advantages of foreign travel. On his return he was employed 
by his country on an embassy to Rome, where he opened a 
school for youth, employing all his leisure time at that capital of 
the world and chief seat of erudition in acquiring those vast 
stores of learning which he afterwards read for the delight and 
instruction of mankind. “It must be borne in mind,” he says, 
“ that my design is not to write histories, but lives. And the 
most glorious exploits do not always furnish us with the clearest 



828 


LITERATURE. 


discoveries of virtue or vice in men; sometimes a matter of less 
moment, an expression or a jest, informs us better of their char¬ 
acters and inclinations than the most famous sieges, the greatest 
armaments, or the bloodiest battles whatsoever. Therefore, as 
portrait-painters are more exact in the lines and features of the 
face, in which the character is seen, than in the other parts of 
the body, so I must be allowed to give my more particular at¬ 
tention to the marks and indications of the souls of men; and, 
while I endeavor by these to portray their lives, may be free to 
leave more weighty matters and great battles to be treated by 
others.” 


THE HORRIBLE PF(0£CRIPTI0N£ OF £YLLA. 

C By Plutarch.) 

Sylla being thus wholly bent upon slaughter, and filling the 
city with executions without number or limit, many wholly un¬ 
interested persons falling a sacrifice to private enmity, through 
his permission and indulgence to his friends, Caius Metellus, one 
of the younger men, made bold in the senate to ask him what 
end there was of these evils, and at what point he might be ex¬ 
pected to stop? “ We do not ask you,” said he, “ to pardon any 
whom you have resolved to destroy, but to free from doubt those 
whom you are pleased to save.” Sylla answering, that he knew 
not as yet whom to spare, “ Why, then,” said he, “ tell us whom 
you will punish.” This Sylla said he would do. These last 
words, some authors say, were spoken not by Metellus, but by 
Afidus, one of Sylla’s fawning companions. Immediately upon 
this, without communicating with any of the magistrates, Sylla 
proscribed eighty persons, and notwithstanding the o-eneral in- 
dignation, after one day’s respite, he posted two hundred and 



PROSCRIPTION OF SYLLA. 


829 


twenty more, and on the third, again,-as many. In an address 
to the people on this occasion, he told them he had put up as 
many names as he could think of; those that had escaped his 
memory he would publish at a future time. He issued an edict 
likewise, making death the punishment of humanity, proscribing 
any who should dare to receive and cherish a proscribed person, 
without exception to brother, son, or parents. And to him who 
should slay any one proscribed person, he ordained two talents 
reward, even were it a slave who had killed his master, or a son 
his father. And what was thought most unjust of all, he caused 
the attainder to pass upon their sons, and son’s sons, and made 
open sale of all their property. Nor did the proscription prevail 
only at Rome, but throughout all the cities of Italy the effusion 
of blood was such, that neither sanctuary of the gods, nor hearth 
of hospitality, nor ancestral home escaped. Men were butchered 
in the embraces of their wives, children in the arms of their 
mothers. Those who perished through public animosity, or pri¬ 
vate enmity, were nothing in comparison of the numbers of those 
who suffered for their riches. Even the murderers began to say, 
that “ his fine house killed this man, a garden that, a third, his 
hot baths.” Quintus Aurelius, a quiet, peaceable man, and one 
who thought all his part in the common calamity consisted in 
condoling with the misfortunes of others, coming into the forum 
to read the list, and finding himself among the proscribed, cried 
out, u Woe is me, my Alban farm has informed against me.” 
He had not gone far, before he was dispatched by a ruffian, sent 
on that errand. 


830 


LITERATURE. 


DEJVlOj3THEJ\|E{3 AND CICERO COMPARED. 

(By Plutarch.) 

Omitting an exact comparison of the respective faculties in 
speaking of Demosthenes and Cicero, yet this much seems fit to 
be said; that Demosthenes, to make himself a master in rhetoric, 
applied all the faculties he had, natural or acquired, wholly that 
way; that he far surpassed in force and strength of eloquence all 
his cotemporaries in political and judicial speaking, in grandeur 
and majesty all the panegyrical orators, and in accuracy and 
science all the logicians and rhetoricans of his day; that Cicero 
was highly educated, and by his diligent study became a most 
accomplished general scholar in all these branches, having lett 
behind him numerous philosophical treatises of his own on 
Academic principles; as, indeed, even in his written speeches, 
both political and judicial, we see him continually trying to show 
his learning by the way. And one may discover the different 
temper of each of them in their speeches. For Demosthenes’ 
oratory was without all embellishment and jesting, wholly com¬ 
posed for real effect and seriousness; not smelling of the lamp, as 
Pytheas scoffingly said, but of the temperance, thoughtfulness, 
austerity, and grave earnestness of his temper. Whereas Cicero’s 
love for mockery often ran him into scurrility; and in his love of 
laughing away serious arguments in judicial cases by jests and 
facetious remarks, with a view to the advantage of his clients, he 
paid too little regard to what was decent. Indeed, Cicero was 
by natural temper very much disposed to mirth and pleasantry, 
and always appeared with a smiling and serene countenance. 
But Demosthenes had constant care and thoughtfulness in his look, 
and a serious anxiety, which he seldom, if ever, set aside, and, 
therefore, was accounted by his enemies, as he himself confessed, 
morose and ill-mannered. 


DEMOSTHENES AND CICERO COMPARED. 


.& 3 1 


Also, it is very evident, out ol their several writings, that 
Demosthenes never touched upon his own praises but decently 
and without offense when there was need of it, and for some 
weightier end; but, upon other occasions, modestly and sparingly. 
But Cicero’s immeasurable boasting 
of himself in his orations argues him 
guilty of an uncontrollable appetite for 
distinction, his cry being evermore 
that arms should give place to the 
gown, and the soldier’s laurel to the 
tongue. And at last we find him ex- 
tolling not only his deeds and actions, 
but his orations, also, as well those that 
were only spoken, as those that were 
published. * * 

The power of persuading and 
governing the people did, indeed, 
equally belong to both, so that those 
who had armies and camps at com- Alexander s-eyerus. 
mand stood in need of their assistance. But what are thought 
and commonly said most to demonstrate and try the tempers of 
men, namely, authority and place, by moving every passion, and 
discovering every frailty, these are things which Demosthenes 
never received; nor was he ever in a position to give such proof 
of himself, having never obtained any eminent office, nor led any 
of those armies into the field against Philip which he raised by 
his eloquence. Cicero, on the other hand, was sent qusestor into 
Sicily, and proconsul into Cilicia and Cappadocia, at a time when 
avarice was at the height, and the commanders and governors 
who were employed abroad, as though they thought it a mean 
thing to steal, set themselves to seize by open force; so that it 
seemed no heinous matter to take bribes, but he that did it most 
moderately was in good esteem. And yet he, at this time, gave 











832 


LITERATURE. 


the most abundant proofs alike of his contempt of riches and of 
his humanity and good nature. And at Rome, when he was 
created consul in name, but indeed received sovereign and dicta¬ 
torial authority against Catiline and his conspirators, he attested 
the truth of Plato’s prediction, that then the miseries of states 
would be at an end, when by a happy fortune supreme power, 
wisdom and justice should be united in one. 

Finally, Cicero’s death excites our pity; for an old man to 
be miserably carried up and down by his servants, flying and 
hiding himself from that death which was, in the course of na¬ 
ture, so near at hand, and yet at last to be murdered. Demos¬ 
thenes, though he seemed at first a little to supplicate, yet, by 
his preparing and keeping the poison by him, demands our ad¬ 
miration; and still more admirable was his using it. When 
the temple of the god no longer afforded him a sanctuary, he 
took refuge, as it were, at a mightier altar, freeing himself 
from arms and soldiers, and laughing to scorn the cruelty of 
Antipater. 

[This seems to have been Plutarch’s views of suicide, and, 
in fact, the spirit of the age in which he lived. From the stand¬ 
point of the philosophy of our day, suicide manifests nothing but 
a weakness and very generally insanity.] 





















4 



TOMB£. 

Respect for the dead, and a considerate regard for the due 
performance of the rites of burial, have been distinctive features 
in man in all ages and countries. Among the Greeks and Ro¬ 
mans great importance was attached to the burial of the dead, 
as, if a corpse remained unburied, it was believed that the spirit 
of the departed wandered for a hundred years on the hither side 
of the Styx. Hence it became a religious duty to scatter earth 
over any unburied body which any one might chance to meet. 
This was considered sufficient to appease the infernal gods. The 
earliest tomb was the tumulus or mound of earth, heaped over 
the dead. It is a form naturally suggested to man in the early 
stages of his development. There are two classes of primitive 
tombs, which are evidently of the highest antiquity. The 
hypergcean, or raised mounds, or tumuli, and liypogcean , which 
are subterranean or excavated. The tumulus may be considered 
as the most simple and the most ancient form of sepulture. Its 
adoption was universal among all primitive nations. Such was 
the memorial raised by the Greeks over the bodies of their 
heroes. These raised mounds are to be met with in all coun¬ 
tries. The Etruscans improved upon this form by surrounding 

S 3 8 33 
















834 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 

the base with a podium, or supporting wall of masonry, as at the 
Cocumella at Vulci, and in the Regulini-Galassi tomb. The 
Lydians adopted a similar improvement in the tomb of Alyattes, 
near Sardis. The pyramid, which is but a further development 
in stone of this form of sepulture, is not peculiar to Eg ypt alone, 
it has been adopted in several other countries. Examples of 
subterranean tombs are to be found in Egypt, Etruria, Greece. 
•Those of Egypt and Etruria afford instances of extraordinary 
labor bestowed in excavating and constructing these subterranean 
abodes of the dead. The great reverence paid by the Egyp¬ 
tians to the bodies of their ancestors, and their careful preserva¬ 
tion of them by embalmment, necessitated a great number and 
vast extent of tombs. The Egyptians called their earthly dwell¬ 
ings inns, because men stay there but a brief while; the tombs 
of the departed they called everlasting mansions, because the dead 
dwelt in them forever. 

The pyramids were tombs. These monuments were the 
last abode of the Kings of the early dynasties. They are to be 
met with in Lower Egypt alone. The Theban Kings and their 
subjects erected no pyramids, and none of their tombs are struc¬ 
tural. In Upper Egypt numerous excavations from the living 
rock in the mountains of the Thebaid received their mortal re¬ 
mains. Nothing can exceed the magnificence and care with 
which these tombs of the Kings were excavated and decorated. 
It appears to have been the custom with their Kings, so soon as 
they ascended the throne, to begin preparing their final resting 
place. The excavation seems to have gone on uninterruptedly, 
year by year, the painting and adornment being finished as it 
progressed, till the hand of death ended the King’s reign, and 
simultaneously the works of his tomb. The tomb thus became 
an index of the length of a King’s reign as well as of his magnifi¬ 
cence. Their entrance, carefully closed, was frequently indicated 
by a facade cut on the side of the hill A number of passages, 


1 





EGYPTIAN TOMB. 




















































































































































































































836 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


sometimes intersected by deep wells and large halls, finally led, 
frequently by concealed entrances, to the large chamber where 
was the sarcophagus, generally of granite, basalt, or alabaster. 
The sides of the entire excavation, as well as the roof, were 
covered with paintings, colored sculptures, and hieroglyphic in¬ 
scriptions in which the name of the deceased King was fre- 
quently repeated. We generally find represented in them the 
funeral ceremonies, the procession, the visit of the soul of the 
deceased to the principal divinities, its offerings to each of them, 
lastly, its presentation by the god who protected it to the su¬ 
preme god of the Amenti, the under-world or Hades. The 
splendor of these works, and the richness and variety of their 
ornamentation, exceed all conception; the figures, though in 
great number, are sometimes of colossal size; frequently scenes 
of civil life are mingled with funeral representations; the labors 
of agriculture, domestic occupations, musicians, dances, and 
furniture of wonderful richness and elegance, are also figured on 
them; on the ceiling are generally astronomical or astrological 
subjects. Several tombs of the Kings of the eighteenth dynasty 
and subsequent dynasties have been found in the valley of Biban- 
el-Molouk on the western side of the plain of Thebes. One of 
the most splendid of these is that opened by Belzoni, and now 
known as that of Osirei Menepthah, of the nineteenth dynasty. 
A sloping passage leads to a chamber which has been called 
“ The Hall of Beauty.” 

Forcing his way farther on, Belzoni found as a termination 
to a series of chambers a large vaulted hall which contained the 
sarcophagus which held the body of the monarch, now in Sir 
John Soane’s Museum. The entire extent of this succession of 
chambers and passages is hollowed to a length of 320 feet into 
the heart of the rock, and they are profusely covered with the 
paintings and hieroglyphics usually found in those sepulchral 
chambers. The tombs of the other Kings, Remeses III. and 


BURYING ACCORDING TO RANK. 837 

Remeses Miamun, exhibit similar series of passages and cham¬ 
bers, covered with paintings and sculptures, in endless variety, some 
representing the deepest mysteries of the Egyptian religion; but, 
as Mr. Fergusson says, like all the tombs, they depend for their 
magnificence more on the paintings that adorn the walls than on 
anything which can strictly be called architecture. One of the 
tombs at Biban-el Molouk is 862 feet in length without reckoning 
the lateral chambers; the total area of excavation is 23,809, oc¬ 
cupying an acre and a quarter of space for one chamber. 

Private individuals were buried according to their rank and 
fortune. Their tombs, also excavated from the living rock, con¬ 
sisted of one or of several chambers ornamented with paintings 
and sculptures; the last contained the sarcophagus and the 

mummy. According to Sir G. Wilkinson, the tombs were the 

* 

property of the priests, and a sufficient number being always kept 
ready, the purchase was made at the shortest notice, nothing be¬ 
ing requisite to complete even the sculptures or inscriptions but 
the insertion of the deceased’s name and a few statements re¬ 
specting his family and profession. The numerous subjects repre¬ 
senting agricultural scenes, the trades of the people, in short, the 
various occupations of the Egyptians, varying only in their details 
and the mode of their execution, were figured in these tombs, and 
were intended as a short epitome of human life, which suited 
equally every future occupant. The tombs at Beni Hassan are 
even of an earlier date than those of Thebes. Among these the 
tomb of a monarch or provincial governor is of the age of Osir- 
tasen I. The walls of this tomb are covered with a series of 
representations, setting forth the ordinary occupations and daily 
avocations of the deceased, thus illustrating the manners and cus¬ 
toms of the Egytians of that age. These representations are a 
sort of epitome of life, or the career of man, previous to his ad¬ 
mission to the mansions of the dead. They were therefore 
intended to show that the deceased had carefully and duly ful- 


8 3 8 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


filled and performed all the duties and avocations which his 
situation in life and the reverence due to the gods required. In 
the cemeteries of Gizeh and Sakkara are tombs of the time of 
Nephercheres, sixth King of the second dynasty, probably the 
most ancient in Egypt. Around the great pyramid are numerous 
tombs of different periods; among them are the tombs of the 
princes, and other members of the family or time of Khufu. 
One of the most interesting is that known as Campbell's tomb, 
of the supposed date of about 660 B. C. It contained a tomb 
built up in its center, covered by three stones as struts, over 
which was a semicircular arch of brick. Near it, also, are several 
tombs of private individuals, who were mostly priests of Mem¬ 
phis. Many of these have false entrances, and several have 
pits with their mouths at the top of the tomb. The walls are 
covered with the usual paintings representing the ordinary occu¬ 
pations of the deceased. 

Mummies .—The origin of the process of embalming has been 
variously accounted for. The real origin appears to be this: it was 
a part of the religious belief of the Egyptians that, as a reward of 
a well-spent and virtuous life, their bodies after death should 
exist and remain undecayed forever in their tombs, for we find 
in the “ Book of the Dead ” the following inscription placed over 
the spirits who have found favor in the eyes of the Great God: 
“ The bodies which they have forsaken shall sleep forever in 
their sepulchres, while they rejoice in the presence of God most 
high. 11 This inscription evidently shows a belief in a separate 
eternity for soul and body; of an eternal existence of the body 
in the tomb, and of the soul in the presence of God. The soul 
was supposed to exist as long as the body existed. Hence the 
necessity of embalming the body as a means to insure its eternal 
existence. Some have considered that the want of ground for 
cemeteries, and also the excavations made in the mountains for 
the extraction of materials employed in the immense buildings 



MUMMIES. 


s 39 


of Egypt, compelled them to have recourse to the expedient of 

mummification. Others consider the custom arose rather from 

• 

a sanitary regulation for the benefit of the living. According to 
Mr. Gliddon, mummification preceded, in all probability, the 
building of the pyramids and tombs, because vestiges of mum¬ 
mies have been found in the oldest of these, and, in fact, the first 
mummies were buried in the sand before the Egyptians possessed 
the necessary tools for excavating sepulchres in the rock. The 
earliest mode of mummification was extremely simple; the bodies 
were prepared with natron, or dried in ovens, and wrapped in 
woolen cloth. At a later period every provincial temple was 
provided with an establishment for the purpose of mummification. 
The bodies were delivered to the priests to be embalmed, and 
after seventy days restored to their friends, to be carried to the 
place of deposit. The mode of embalming depended on the 
rank and position of the deceased. There were three modes of 
embalming; the first is said to have cost a talent of silver (about 
$1,250); the second, 22 minse ($300); the third was extremely 
cheap. The process is thus described by Herodotus;— u In Egypt 
certain persons are appointed by law to exercise this art as their 
peculiar business, and when a dead body is brought them they 
produce patterns of mummies in wood, imitated in painting. In 
preparing the body according to # the most expensive mode, they 
commence by extracting the brain from the nostrils by a curved 
hook, partly cleansing the head by these means, and partly by 
pouring in certain drugs; then making an incision in the side 
with a sharp Ethiopian stone (black flint), they draw out the in¬ 
testines through the aperture. Having cleansed and washed them 
with palm wine, they cover them with pounded aromatics, and 
afterwards filling the cavity with powder of pure myrrh, cassia, 
and other fragrant substances, frankincense excepted, they sew it 
up again. This being done, they salt the body, keeping it in 
natron during seventy days, to which period they are strictly 



840 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


confined. When the seventy days are over, they wash the body, 
and wrap it up entirely in bands ot fine linen smeared on the 
inner side with gum. The relatives then take away the body, 
and have a wooden case made in the form of a man, in which 
they deposit it; and when fastened up they keep it in a room in 
their house, placing it upright against the wall. (This style ot 
mummy was supposed to represent the deceased in the form ot 
Osiris.) This is the most costly mode of embalming. 

“For those who choose the middle kind, on account of the 
expense, they prepare the body as follows:—They fill syringes 
with oil of cedar, and inject this into the abdomen without 
making any incision or removing the bowels; and, taking care 
that the liquid shall not escape, they keep it in salt during the 
specified number of days. The cedar-oil is then taken out, and 
such is its strength that it brings with it the bowels and all the 
inside in a state of dissolution. The natron also dissolves the 
flesh, so that nothing remains but the skin and bones. This 
process being over, they restore the body without any further 
operation. 

u The third kind of embalming is only adapted for the poor. 
In this they merely cleanse the body by an injection of syrmsea, 
and salt it during seventy days, after which it is returned to the 
friends who brought it.” 

Sir G. Wilkinson gives some further information with regard 
to the more expensive mode of embalming. The body, having 
been prepared with the proper spices and drugs, was enveloped 
in linen bandages sometimes 1,000 yards in length. It was then 
enclosed in a cartonage fitting close to the mummied body, 
which was richly painted and covered in front with a network 
of beads and bugles arranged in a tasteful form, the face being 
laid over with a thick gold leaf, and the eyes made of enamel. 
The three or four cases which successively covered the cartonage 
were ornamented in like manner with painting and gilding, and 


MUMMIES 


84I 



the whole was enclosed in a sarcophagus of wood or stone, pro¬ 
fusely charged with painting or sculpture. These cases, as well 
as the cartonage, varied in 
style and richness,according 
to the expense incurred by 
the friends of the deceased. 

The bodies thus embalmed 
were generally of priests ot 
various grades. Sometimes 
the skin itself was covered 
with gold leaf; sometimes 
the whole body, the face, or 
eyelids; sometimes the nails 
alone. In many instances 
the body or the cartonage 
was beautified in an expen¬ 
sive manner, and the outer 
cases were little ornament¬ 
ed; but some preferred the 
external show of rich cases 
and sarcophagi. Some 
mummies have been found 
with the face covered by a 
mask of cloth fitting closely 
to it, and overlaid with a 
coating of composition, so 
painted as to resemble the 
deceased, and to have the 
appearance of flesh. These, 
according to Sir G. Wilkin¬ 
son, are probably of a Greek 
epoch. Greek mummies usually differed from those of the 
Egyptians in the manner of disposing the bandages ot the arms 




















































































































































842 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


and legs. No Egyptian is found with the limbs bandaged sepa¬ 
rately, as those of Greek mummies. On the breast was frequently 
placed a scarabseus in immediate contact with the flesh. These 
scarabsei, when of stone, had their extended wings made of lead 
or silver. On the cartonage and case, in a corresponding situa¬ 
tion above, the same emblem was also placed, to indicate the 
protecting influence of the Deity. The subjects painted upon the 
cartonage were the four genii of Amenti, and various emblems 
belonging to deities connected with the dead. A long line of hie- 
roglyphics extending down the front usually contained the name 
and quality of the deceased, and the offerings presented by him to 
the gods; and transverse bands frequently repeated the former, 
with similar donations to other deities. On the breast was 
placed the figure of Netpe, with expanded wings, protecting the 
deceased; sacred arks, boats, and other things were arranged in 
different compartments, and Osiris, Isis, Anubis, and other 
deities, were frequently introduced. In some instances Isis was 
represented throwing her arms round the feet of the mummy, 
with this appropriate legend: U I embrace thy feet.” A plaited 
beard was attached to the chin when the mummy was that of a 
man; the absence of this appendage indicated the mummy of a 
woman. 

Mummy Cases and Sarcophagi .—The outer case of the 
mummy was either of wood—sycamore or cedar—or of stone. 
When of wood it had a flat or circular summit, sometimes with 
a stout square pillar rising at each angle. The whole was richly 
painted, and some of an older age frequently had a door repre¬ 
sented near one of the corners. At one end was the figure of 
Isis, at the other Nepthys, and the top was painted with bands 
or fancy devices. In others, the lid represented the curving top 
of the ordinary Egyptian canopy. The stone coffins, usually 
called sarcophagi, were of oblong shape, having flat straight 
sides, like a box, with a curved or pointed lid. Sometimes the 





MUMMY CASES AND SARCOPHAGI. 


8 43 


figure of the deceased was represented upon the latter in relief, 
like that of the Queen of Amasis in the British Museum; and 
some weie in the form of a fling’s name or oval. Others were 
made in the shape of the mummied body, whether of basalt, 
granite, slate, or limestone, specimens of which are met with 
in the British Museum. These cases were deposited in the sepul¬ 
chral chambers. Various offerings were placed near them, and 
sometimes the instruments of the profession of the deceased. 



coffin of alabaster. (Features of the deceased Sculptured) 


Near them were also placed vases and small figures of the de¬ 
ceased, of wood or vitrified earthenware. In Sir John Soane’s 
museum is the sarcophagus of Seti I. (Menephtha) B. C. 1322, 
cut out of a single block of Oriental alabaster. It is profusely 
covered with hieroglyphics, and scenes on it depict the passage 
of the sun through the hours of the night. It was found by 
Belzoni in his tomb in the Biban-el-molouk. The sarcophagus 
now in the British Museum was formerly supposed to have 
been the identical sarcophagus which contained the body of 
Alexander the Great. The hieroglyphic name, which has been 
























































8 4 + 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


read upon the monument, proves it to be that of Neetanebo I., 
of the thirtieth dynasty, who reigned from B. C. 381 to 363. Its 
material is a breccia from a quarry near Thebes, and is remark¬ 
able for its hardness. A remarkable rectangular-shaped coffin 
of whinstone was that of Menkare, the Mycerinus of the Greeks, 
and the builder of the third pyramid; this interesting relic was 
found by Colonel Vyse in the sepulchral chambers of the third 
pyramid, but was unfortunately lost at sea while on its way to 
England. The remains of the cedar-coffin of this monarch are 
in the British Museum. Many beautiful sarcophagi are in the 
Vatican at Rome. 

The vases, generally named canopi, from their resemblance 
to certain vases made by the Romans to imitate the Egyptian 
taste, but inadmissible in its application to any Egyptian vase, 
were four in number, of different materials, according to the 
rank of the deceased, and were placed near his coffin in the 
tomb. Some were of common limestone, the most costly were 
of Oriental alabaster. These four vases form a complete series; 
the principal intestines of the mummy were placed in them, em¬ 
balmed in spices and various substances, and rolled up in linen, 
each containing a separate portion. They were supposed to be¬ 
long to the four genii of Amenti, whose heads and names they 
bore. The vase with a cover, representing the human head of 
Amset, held the stomach and large intestines; that with the 
cynocephalus head of Hapi contained the small intestines; in 
that belonging to the jackal-headed Tuautmutf were the lungs 
and heart; and for the vase of the hawk-headed Kabhsenuf 
were reserved the gall-bladder and liver. On the sides of the 
vases were several columns of hieroglyphics, which expressed 
the adoration of the deceased to each of the four deities whose 
symbols adorned the covers, and which gave the name of the 
deceased. 

Small figures, called shabti , offered through respect for the 




MUMMY CASES AND SARCOPHAGI. 


8 45 


dead, are to be found in great numbers in the tombs. They 
were images of Osiris, whose form the deceased was supposed 
to assume, and who thence was called the Osirian. They are in 
several shapes, sometimes in that of the deceased, standing in 
the dress of the period, but more generally in the shape of a 
mummy, the body swathed in bandages, from which the hands 
come out, holding a hoe, Jiab, and pick-ax, and the cord of a 
square basket, slung on the left shoulder, or nape of the neck. 
The head attire of the deceased is either that of the period or 
dignity, and in the case of monarchs accompanied by the uraeus, 
emblem of royalty. Some figures hold the emblem of life, ankh , 
and of stability, tat , or a whip, him . They are generally of 
wood, or vitrified earthenware. The name and quality of the 
deceased are found on all those in the same tomb, and thrown 
on the ground round the sarcophagus. They usually bear in 
hieroglyphics the sixth chapter of the funeral ritual. Some are 
found with a blank space left for the name of the deceased, 
which leads one to think that the relations and friends procured 
these figures from dealers; the funeral formula, with a list of 

V 

the customary presentations of offerings for his soul to Osiris 
were already on them; nothing was wanting but the name of 
the deceased; this being added, they were then evidently offered 
as testimonies of respect by the relations and friends of the 
deceased, perhaps at the funeral, and then collected and placed 
in the tomb. Sometimes these small figures were placed in 
painted cases divided into compartments. These cases were 
about two feet long and one foot high. 

Manuscripts on papyrus, of various lengths, have been found 
on some mummies. These rolls of papyrus are found in the cof¬ 
fins, or under the swathings of the mummies, between the legs, 
on the breast, or under the arms. Some are enclosed in a cylin¬ 
drical case. The papyrus of the Museum of Turin is sixtv-six 
feet long, that at Paris is twenty-two feet long; others are of dif- 


8 4 6 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


ferent lengths, clown to two or three feet. That of Turin may 
be considered as complete. On all, the upper part of the page 
is occupied by a line of figures of the divinities which the soul 
visits in succession; the rest is filled with perpendicular columns 
of hieroglyphics, which are prayers which the soul addresses to 
each divinity; towards the end of the manuscript is painted the 
judgment scene; the great god Osiris is on his throne; at his feet 
is an enormous female crocodile, its mouth open; behind is the 
divine balance, surmounted by a cynocephalus emblem of 
universal justice; the good and bad actions of the soul are 
weighed in his presence. Horus examines the plummet, and 
Thoth records the sentence; standing close by is the soul of the 
deceased in its corporeal form, conducted by the two goddesses, 
Truth and Justice, before the great judge of the dead. The 
name of Ritual of the Dead has been given by Egyptologists to 
these papyri, but in reality they bear the title of u The Book of 
the Manifestation to Light.” A copy of this, more or less com¬ 
plete, according to the fortune of the deceased, was deposited in 
the case of every mummy. The book was revised under the 
twenty-sixth dynasty, and then assumed its final definite form. 
But many parts of it are of the highest antiquity. The whole 
series of pilgrimages which the soul, separated from the body, 
was believed to accomplish in the various divisions of the lower 
regions, are related in this book. It contained also a collection 
of prayers for the use of the deceased in the other world, and of 
magical formulae intended to secure the preservation of the 
mummy from decay, and to prevent its possession by an evil 
spirit, till the ultimate return of the soul of the deceased. Many 
of these rituals are also found written, not in hieroglyphics, but 
in hieratic characters, which are an abbreviated form of hiero¬ 
glyphic signs. Papyri with hieroglyphics are nearly always 
divided by ruled lines into narrow vertical columns of an inch or 
less in breadth, in which the hieroglyphic signs are arranged one 


MUMMY CASES AND SARCOPHAGI 


847 

under the other. Sometimes the papyri are found written in the 
enchorial character. Several manuscripts in Greek on papyrus 
have been also discovered in Egypt; they are, however, of a late 
date, and relate to the sale of lands; many have been discovered 
referring to lands and possessions about Thebes, one of which 
has been given in full on page 245. 



DISCOVERED TOMB WITH ITS TREASURES. (At Pompeii.) 


Roman Tombs .—Before commencing our description of the 
tombs which line the way as the visitor approaches Pompeii, 
and seem to prepare him for that funeral silence which reigns in 
the long-lost city, the more remarkable for its contrast with the 
gay and festive style of decoration which still characterizes the 
remains which surround him, it is our intention, as we have done 












































































































































































































































































8 4 8 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


in other instances, to give some general information upon the 
subject which we are about to treat in detail, for the benefit of 
those among our readers to whom the forms of Roman buj'ial 
and the expressions of Roman sorrow are unfamiliar. 

Great, absurdly great among the uneducated, as is the 
importance attached to a due performance of the rites of burial 
in the present day, it is as nothing compared to the interest 
which was felt on this subject by the Romans; and not by them 
only, but by other nations of antiquity, with whose manners we 
have nothing to do here. The Romans indeed had a good 
reason for this anxiety, for they believed, in common with the 
Greeks, that if the body remained unentombed, the soul wan¬ 
dered for a hundred years on the hither side of the Styx, alone 
and desponding, unable to gain admission to its final resting-place, 
whether among the happy or the miserable. If, therefore, any 
person perished at sea, or otherwise under such circumstances 
that his body could not be found, a cenotaph , or empty tomb, 
was erected by his surviving friends, which served as well for his 
passport over the Stygian ferry as if his body had been burnt or 
committed to the earth with due ceremonies. Hence it became 
a religious duty, not rashly to be neglected, to scatter earth over 
any unburied body which men chanced to see, for even so slight 
a sepulchre as this was held sufficient to appease the scruples of 
the infernal gods. The reader, if there be any readers of Latin 
to whom these superstitions are unfamiliar, may refer to the 
sixth book of the TEneid, line 325, and to a remarkable ode of 
Horace, the 28th of the first book, which turns entirely upon this 
subject. Burial, therefore, was a matter of considerable im¬ 
portance. 

When death approached, the nearest relative hung over the 
dying person, endeavoring to inhale his last breath, in a fond 
belief that the anima , the living principle, departed at that 
moment, and by that passage from the body. Hence the 



ROMAN TOMBS. 849 

phrases, animcim in primo ore tenere , spiritum excipere , and the 
like. It is curious to observe how an established form of expres¬ 
sion holds its ground. Here are we, after the lapse of eighteen 
hundred years, still talking of receiving a dying 
friend’s last breath, as if we really meant what 
we say. After death the body was washed 
and anointed by persons called pollinctores / 
then laid out on a bier, the feet to the door, 
to typify its approaching departure, dressed in 
the best attire which it had formerly owned. 

The bier was often decked with leaves and 
flowers, a simple and touching tribute of affection, which is of 
the heart, and speaks to it, and therefore has maintained its 
ground in every age and region, unaffected by the constant 
changes in customs merely arbitrary and conventional. 

In the early ages of Rome the rites of burial and burning 
seem to have been alike in use. Afterwards the former seems 
(for the matter is not very clear) to have prevailed, until 
towards the close of the seventh century of the city, after the 
death of Sylla, who is said to have been the first of the patrician 
Cornelii who was burnt. Thenceforward corpses were almost 
universally consumed by fire until the establishment of Christian¬ 
ity, when the old fashion was brought up again, burning being 
violently opposed by the fathers of the church, probably on 
account of its intimate connection with Pagan associations and 
superstitions. Seven days, we are told, elapsed between death 
and the funeral; on the eighth the corpse was committed to the 
flames; on the ninth the ashes were deposited in the sepulchre. 
This probably refers only to the funerals of the great, where 
much splendor and extent of preparation was required, and 
especially those public funerals ( funera indictiva) to which the 
whole people were bidden by voice of crier, the ceremony being 
often closed by theatrical and gladiatorial exhibitions, and a 

54 



8 s° 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


sumptuous banquet. But we have no intention to narrate the 
pomp which accompanied the princely nobles of Rome to the 
tomb: it is enough for our purpose to explain the usages of 
private life, to which the Street of Tombs owes its origin and its 
interest. 

In the older times funerals were celebrated at night because 
the rites of religion were celebrated by day; and it was pollu¬ 
tion for the ministers, or for anything connected with worship of 
the deities of the upper world, even to see, much more to touch, 
anything connected with death. From this nightly solemniza¬ 
tion many of the words connected with this subject are derived. 
Those who bore the bier were called originally Vesperones , 
thence Vespillones , from Vesper a, evening; and the very term 
funits is derived by grammarians, a funalibus , from the rope 
torches coated with wax or tallow which continued to be used 
long after the necessity for using them ceased. This practice, 
now far more than two thousand years old, is still retained in the 
Roman Church, with many other ceremonies borrowed from 
heathen rites. St. Chrysostom assures us that it is not of 
modern revival, and gives a beautiful reason for its being re¬ 
tained. “Tell me,” he says, “ what mean those brilliant lamps? 
Do we not go forth with the dead on their way rejoicing, as 
with men who have fought their fight ? ” 

The corpse being placed upon a litter or bier, the former 
being used by the wealthy, the latter by the poor, was carried 
out preceded by instrumental musicians, and female singers, who 
chanted the dirge. These hired attendants, whose noisy sorrow 
was as genuine as the dumb grief of our mutes, were succeeded, 
if the deceased were noble, or distinguished by personal exploits, 
b} 7 numerous couches containing the family effigies of his ances¬ 
tors, each by itself, that the length of his lineage might be the 
more conspicuous; by the images of such nations as he had con¬ 
quered, such cities as he had taken; by the spoils which he had 



ROMAN TOMBS. 


851 

won; by the ensigns of the magistracies which he had filled; but 
if the fasces were among them these were borne reversed. Then 
came the slaves whom he had emancipated (and often with a 
view to this post-mortem magnificence, a master emancipated 
great numbers of them), wearing hats in token of their manu¬ 
mission. Behind the-corpse came the nearest relations, profuse 
in the display of grief as far as it can be shown by weeping, 
howling, beating the breasts and cheeks, and tearing the hair, 
which was laid, as a last tribute of affection, on the breast of the 
deceased, to be consumed with him. To shave the head was 
also a sign of mourning. It is a curious inversion of the ordinary 
customs of life, that the sons of the deceased mourned with the 
head covered, the daughters with it bare. 

With this attendance the body was borne to the place of 
burial, being usually carried through the Forum, where, if the 
deceased had been a person of any eminence, a funeral oration 
was spoken from the rostra in his honor. The place of burial 
was without the city, in almost every instance. By the twelve 
tables it was enacted that no one should be burned or buried 
within the city; and as this wholesome law fell into disuse, it 
was from time to time revived and enforced. The reasons for 
its establishment were twofold, religious and civil. To the 
former head belongs the reason, already assigned for a different 
observance, that the very sight of things connected with death 
brought pollution on things consecrated to the gods of the 
upper world. So far was this carried that the priest of Jupi¬ 
ter might not even enter any place where there was a tomb, 
or so much as hear the funeral pipes; nay, his wife, the Flaminica, 
mio-ht not wear shoes made of the hide of an ox which had died 
a natural death, because all things which had died spontaneously 
were of ill omen. Besides, it was an ill omen to an^ one to come 
upon a tomb unawares. Another reason was that the public 
convenience might not be interrupted by private rites, since no 


852 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


tombs could be removed without sacrilege when once established, 
unless by the state, upon sufficient cause. The civil reasons are 
to be sought in the unwholesome exhalations of large burying- 
grounds, and the danger of fire from burning funeral piles in the 
neighborhood of houses. It is not meant, however, that there 
were no tombs within the city. Some appear to have been in¬ 
cluded by the gradual extension of the walls; others were estab¬ 
lished in those intervals when the law of the twelve tables fell, 
as we have said, into desuetude; nor does it appear that these 
were destroyed, nor their contents removed. Thus both the 
Claudian and the Cincian clans had sepulchres in Rome, the 
former under the Capitol. 



ARTICLES FOUND IN A TOMB. 


If the family were of sufficient consequence to have a patri¬ 
monial tomb the deceased was laid in it; if he had none such, 
and was wealthy, he usually constructed a tomb upon his prop- 
eity during life, or bought a piece of ground for the purpose. 
If possible the tomb was always placed near a road. Hence the 
usual form of inscription, Siste, Viator (Stay, Traveler), con¬ 
tinually used in churches by those small wits who thought that 
nothing could be good English which was not half Latin, and 
forgot that in our country the traveler must have stayed already 
to visit the sexton before he can possibly do so in compliance 
with the advice of the monument. For the poor there were 
public burial-grounds, called futiculi , a fiuteis, from the trenches 
ready dug to receive bodies. Such was the ground at the 




ROMAN TOMBS. 


853 


Esquiline gate, which Augustus gave Maecenas for his gardens. 
Public tombs were also granted by the state to eminent men, an 
honor in early times conferred on few. These grants were 
usually made in the Campus Martius, where no one could legally 
be buried without a decree of the senate in his favor. It ap¬ 
pears from the inscriptions found in the Street of Tombs, at 
Pompeii, that much, if not the whole of the ground on which 
those tombs are built, was public property, the property of the 
corporation, as we should now say; and that the sites of many^ 
perhaps of all, were either purchased or granted by the de- 
curions, or municipal senate, in gratitude for obligations received. 

Sometimes the body was burned at the place where it was 
to be entombed, which, when the pile and sepulchre were thus 
joined, was called bus turn/ sometimes the sepulchre was at a 
distance from the place of burning, which was then called 
ustrina . The words bustum and sepulclirum , therefore, though 
often loosely used as synonymous, are not in fact so, the latter 
being involved in, but by no means comprehending the former. 
The pile was ordered to be built of rough wood, unpolished by 
the ax. Pitch was added to quicken the flames, and cypress, 
the aromatic scent of which was useful to overpower the stench 
of the burning body. The funeral piles of great men were of 
immense size and splendidly adorned; and all classes appear to 
have indulged their vanity in this respect to the utmost of their 
means, so that a small and unattended pyre is mentioned as the 
mark of an insignificant or friendless person. The body was 
placed on it in the litter or bier; the nearest relation present then 
opened the eyes, which it had been the duty of the same person 
to close immediately after death, and set fire to the wood with 
averted face, in testimony that he performed that office not of 
o-ood will, but of necessity. As the combustion proceeded, vari- 
ous offerings were cast into the flames. The manes were be¬ 
lieved to love blood; animals, therefore, especially those which 


/ 


854 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


they had loved while alive, were killed and thrown upon the 
pile, as horses, dogs and doves, besides the beasts commonly 
used in sacrifice, as sheep and oxen. Human beings, especially 
prisoners of war, were sometimes put to death, though not in 
the later times of the republic. The most costly robes and 
arms of the deceased, especially trophies taken in warfare, were 
also devoted in his honor, and the blaze was fed by the costly 
oils and gums of the East. The body being reduced to ashes, 
these were then quenched with wine, and collected by the nearest 
relation; after which, if the grief were real, they were again 
bedewed with tears; if not, wine or unguents answered the pur¬ 
pose equally well. The whole ceremony is described in a few 
lines by Tibullus: 

There, while the fire lies smouldering on the ground, 

My bones, the all of me, can then be found. 

Arrayed in mourning robes, the sorrowing pair 
Shall gather all around with pious care; 

With ruddy wine the relics sprinkle o’er, 

And snowy milk on them collected pour. 

Then with fair linen cloths the moisture dry, 

Inurned in some cold marble tomb to lie. 

With them enclose the spices, sweets, and gums, 

And all that from the rich Arabia comes, 

And what Assyria’s wealthy confines send, 

And tears, sad offering, to my memory lend. 

Eleg. in. 2 - 17 . 

The ashes thus collected were then finally deposited in the 
urn, which was made of different materials, according to the 
quality of the dead; usuall} 7 of clay or glass, but sometimes of 
marble, bronze, and even the precious metals. The ceremony 
thus over, the prsefica gave the word, Ilicet (the contracted 
form of Ire licet , It is lawful to go), and the bystanders 
departed, having been thrice sprinkled with a branch of olive 
or laurel dipped in water, to purify them from the pollution which 


ROMAN TOMBS. 


855 


they had contracted, arid repeating thrice the words, Vale , or 
Salve , words of frequent occurrence in monumental inscriptions, 
as in one of beautiful simplicity which we quote: 

“ Farewell, most happy soul of Caia Oppia. We shall 
follow thee in such order as may be appointed by nature. Fare¬ 
well, sweetest mother.” 

The distinction between cenotaphs and tombs has been 
already explained. Cenotaphs, however, were of two sorts: 
those erected to persons already duly buried, which were merely 
honorary, and those erected to the unburied dead, which had a 
religious end and efficacy. This evasion of the penal laws 
against lying unburied was chiefly serviceable to persons ship¬ 
wrecked or slain in war; but all came in for the benefit of it 
whose bodies could not be found or identified. When a cenotaph 
of the latter class was erected sacrifices were offered, the names 
of the deceased were thrice invoked with a loud voice, as if to 
summon them to their new abode, and the cenotaph was hallowed 
with the same privileges as if the ashes of the deceased reposed 
within it. 

The heir, however, had not discharged his last duty when 
he had laid the body of his predecessor in the tomb; there were 
still due solemn rites, and those of an expensive character. 
The Romans loved to keep alive the memory of their dead, 
showing therein a constancy of affection which does them honor; 
and not only immediately after the funeral, but at stated periods 
from time to time, they celebrated feasts and offered sacrifices 
and libations to them. The month of February was especially 
set apart for doing honor to the manes, having obtained that 
distinction in virtue of being, in old times, the last month o( the 
year. Private funeral feasts were also celebrated on the ninth 
day after death, and indeed at any time, except on those days 
which were marked as unlucky, because some great public calam¬ 
ity had befallen upon them. Besides these feasts, the dead 


8 5 6 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


were honored with sacrifices, which were offered to the manes, 
and with games; but the latter belong more to those splendid 
public funerals which we have professed not to describe. The 
inferise consisted principally of libations, for which were used 
water, milk, wine, but especially blood, the smell of which was 
thought peculiarly palatable to the ghosts. Perfumes and flowers 
were also thrown upon the tomb; and the inexpediency of wast¬ 
ing rich wines and precious oils on a cold stone and dead body, 
when they might be employed in comforting the living, was a 
favorite subject with the bons vivans of the age. It was with 
the same design to crown it with garlands, and to honor it with 
libations, that Electra and Orestes met and recognized each other 
at their father’s tomb. Roses were in especial request for this 
service, and lilies also: 

Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, 

Mixed with the purple roses of the Spring; 

Let me with funeral flowers his body strow> 

This gift which parents to their children owe, 

This unavailing gift at least I may bestow. 

Dryclen , lEn. vi. 883. 

Inscriptions .—Before entering upon a description of the 
catacombs, we will speak of the inscriptions of the ancients. Most 
of the tombs are really Egyptian, and no nation has left so many 
inscriptions as the Egyptian. All its monuments are covered 
with them. Its temples, palaces, tombs, isolated monuments, 
present an infinite number of inscriptions in hieroglyphic, hieratic, 
and demotic characters. The Egyptians rarely executed a statue, 
or figured representation, without inscribing by its side its name 
or subject. This name is invariably found by the side of each 
divinity, personage, or individual. In each painted scene, on each 
sculptured figure, an inscription, more or less extensive, explains 
its subject. 

The characters used by the Egyptians were of three kinds_ 




INSCRIPTIONS. 



• • 


5 





hieroglyphic, hieratic, and demotic. The latter has been also 
termed enchorial , or popular. The first was 
doubtless a system of representational signs, or 
picture writing—the earliest form of writing, in 
the first stage of its development; the hieratic is 
an abbreviated form of the hieroglyphic; the de¬ 
motic, a simplified form of the hieratic, and a near 
approach towards the alphabetic system. 

Hieroglyphics (styled by the Egyptians shhai 
en neter tur —writing of sacred words) are com¬ 
posed of signs representing objects of the physical hieroglyphics. 
world, as animals, plants, stars, man and his different members, 
and various objects. They are pure or linear, the latter being a 
reduction of the former. The pure were always sculptured or 
painted. The linear were generally used in the earlier papyri, 
containing funeral rituals. 


1 


V V J 


They have been divided into four classes:—i, Representa¬ 
tional or ikonographic; 2, Symbolic or tropical; 3, Enigmatic; 
4, Phonetic. From the examination of hieroglyphic inscriptions 
of different ages, it is evident that these four classes of symbols 
were used promiscuously, according to the pleasure and con¬ 
venience of the artist. 

1. Ikonographic, representational, or imitative hieroglyphics, 
are those that present the images of the things expressed, as the 
sun’s disk to signify the sun, the crescent to signify the moon. 
These may be styled pure hieroglyphics. 

2. The symbolical, or tropical (by Bunsen termed ideo¬ 
graphic), substituted one object for another, to which it bore an 
analogy, as heaven and a star expressed night; a leg in a trap, 
deceit; two arms stretched towards heaven expressed the word 
offering; a censer with some grains of incense, adoration; a bee 
was made to signify Lower Egypt; the fore-quarters of a lion, 
strength; a crocodile, darkness. The following hieroglyphics 




8 S 8 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


were on the triumph Hall Thothmes III., and mean, alter trans- 
lating: 





“ I went: I order that you reduce and crush all the high 


officers of Tsahi. I cast them together with all their possessions 
at thy feet.” 

This kind of character appears to have been particularly 
invented for the expression of abstract ideas, especially belong¬ 
ing to religion or the royal power. These are the characters 
generally alluded to by the ancients when they speak of hiero¬ 
glyphics, and are the most difficult of interpretation. 

3. Enigmatic are those in which an emblematic figure is put 
in lieu of the one intended to be represented, as a hawk for the 
sun; a seated figure with a curved beard, for a god. These three 
kinds were either used alone , or in company with the phoneti¬ 
cally written word they represented. Thus: 1. The word Ra, 
sun, might be written in letters only, or be also followed by the 
ikonograph, the solar dish (which if alone would still have the 
same meaning—Ra, the sun). So, too, the word “ moon,” Aah, 
was followed by the crescent. In these cases the sign so following 
the phonetic word has been called a terminative , from its serving 
to determine the meaning of what preceded it. We give here 
a few words translated: 



“In your transformation as golden sperbe you have accom¬ 
plished it.” 

2. In the same manner, the tropical hieroglyphics might be 
alone or in company with the word written phonetically; and the 
expression “ to write,” shhai, might be followed or not by its 



INSCRIPTIONS. 


8 59 


tropical hieroglyphic, the “pen and inkstand,” as its determina¬ 
tive sign. 3. The emblematic figure, a hawk-headed god, bear¬ 
ing the disk, signifying the “ sun,” might also be alone, or after 
the name “ Ra ” written phonetically,’ as a determinative sign; 
and as a general rule the determinative followed, instead of pre- 

, S? y ceding the names. Determina- 

Jlf AWAtO X'JM \ 

r | Y** y, tives are of two kinds—ideo¬ 

grams, and generic determinatives: the first were the pictures of . 
the object spoken of; the second, conventional symbols of the 
class of notions expressed by the word. 

4. Phonetic. Phonetic characters or signs were those ex¬ 
pressive of sounds. They are either purely alphabetic or 
syllabic. All the other Egyptian phonetic signs have syllabic 
values, which are resolvable into combinations of the letters of 
the alphabet. This phonetic principle being admitted, the num¬ 
bers of figures used to represent a sound might have been in¬ 
creased almost without limit, and any hieroglyphic might stand 
for the first letter of its name. So copious an alphabet would 
have been a continual source of error. The characters, there¬ 
fore, thus applied, were soon fixed, and the Egyptians practically 
confined themselves to particular hieroglyphics in writing cer¬ 
tain words. 


u Out of bad comes good.” 

Hieroglyphic writing was employed on monuments of all 
kinds, on temples as well as on the smallest figures, and on 
bricks used for building purposes. On the most ancient monu¬ 
ments this writing i§ absolutely the same as on the most recent 
Egyptian work. Out of Egypt there is scarcely a single exam¬ 
ple of a graphic system identically the same during a period of 
over two thousand years. The hieroglyphic characters were 
either engraved in relief, or sunk below the surface on the public 



86o 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


monuments, and objects of hard materials suited for the glyptic 
art. The hieroglyphics on the monuments are either sculptured 
and plain, or decorated with colors. The colored are divided 
into two distinct classes, the monochromatic of one simple tone, 
and the polychromatic, or those which rendered with more or 
less fidelity the color of the object they were intended to depict. 
The hieroglyphic figures were arranged in vertical columns or 
horizontal lines, and grouped together as circumstances re¬ 
quired, so as to leave no spaces unnecessarily vacant. They 
were written from right to left, or from left to right. The order 
in which the characters were to be read, was shown by the 
direction in which the figures are placed, as their heads are in¬ 
variably turned towards the reader. A single line of hiero¬ 
glyphics—the dedication of a temple or of any other monument, 
for example—proceeds sometimes one half from left to right, 
and the other half from right to left; but in this case a sign, 
such as the sacred tau, or an obelisk, which has no particular 
direction, is placed in the middle of the inscription, and it is from 
that sign that the two halves of the inscription take each an op¬ 
posite direction. 

The period when hieroglyphics—the oldest Egyptian char¬ 
acters—were first used, is uncertain. They are found in the 
Great Pyramid of the time of the fourth dynasty, and had evi¬ 
dently been invented long before, having already assumed a 
cursive style.* This shows them to be far older than any other 
known writing; and the written documents of the ancient 
languages of Asia, the Sanskrit and the Zend, are of a recent 
time compared with those of Egypt, even if the date of the Rig- 
Veda in the fifteenth century B. C. be proved. Manetho shows 
that the invention of writing was known in the reign of Athoth 

*The most ancient hieroglyphs, according to M. Pierret, which can be seen in an 
European museum, are those on the statues of Sefa and Nesa in the Louvre; they date 
from a period anterior to the fourth dynasty. The lintel of the door of the tomb of one 
of the priests of Senat, fifth King of the second dynasty in the Aslimolean Library, 
Oxford, exhibits, however, hieroglyphs of an earlier date. 





INSCRIPTIONS. 


861 

(the son and successor of Menes), the second King of Egypt, 
when he ascribes to him the writing of the anatomical books, 
and tradition assigned to it a still earlier origin. At all events, 
hieroglyphics, and the use of the papyrus, with the usual reed 
pen, are shown to have been common when the pyramids were 
built, and their style in the sculptures proves that they were 
then a very old invention. In hieroglyphics of the earliest 
periods there were fewer phonetic characters than in after ages, 
these periods being nearer to the original picture-writing. The 
number of signs also varied at different times; but they may 
be reckoned at from 900 to 1,000. Various new characters were 
added at subsequent periods, and a still greater number were intro¬ 
duced under the Ptolemies and Caesars, which are not found in the 
early monuments; some, again, of the older times, fell into disuse., 

Hieratic is an abbreviated form of the hieroglyphic; thus 
each hieroglyphic sign—ikonographic, symbolic, or phonetic— 
has its abridged hieratic form, and this abridged form has the 
same import as the sign itself of which it is a reduced copy. It 
was written from right to left, and was the character used by the 
priests and sacred scribes, whence its name. It was invented at 
least as early as the ninth dynasty (4,240 years ago), and fell into 
disuse when the demotic had been introduced. The hieratic 
writing was generally used for manuscripts, and is also found on 
the cases of mummies, and on isolated stones and tablets. Long 
inscriptions have been written on them with a brush. Inscrip¬ 
tions of this kind are also found on buildings, written or engraved 
by ancient travelers. But its most important use was in the his¬ 
torical papyri, and the registers of the temples. Most valuable 
information respecting the chronology and numeric systems of 
the Egyptians has been derived from them. 

Demotic, or enchorial, is composed of signs derived from the 
hieratic, and is a simplified form of it, but from which figurative 
or ikonographic signs are generally excluded, and but few sym- 




862 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


bolical signs, relative to religion alone, are retained; signs nearly 
approaching the alphabetic are chiefly met with in this third kind 
of writing. It was invariably written, like the hieratic, from 
right to left. It is thus evident that the Egyptians, strictly 
speaking, had but one system of writing, composed of three kinds 
of signs, the second and third being regularly deduced from the 
Erst, and all three governed by the same fundamental principles. 
The demotic was reserved for general use among the Egyptians: 
decrees and other public acts, contracts, some funeral stelae, and 

private transactions, were written in demotic. 
The intermediate text of the Rosetta inscription 
is of this kind. It is not quite certain when the 
demotic first came into use, but it was at least 
as early as the reign of Psammetichus II., of 
the twenty-sixth dynasty (B. C. 604); and it had 
therefore long been employed when Herodotus 
visited Egypt. Soon after its invention it was 
adopted for all ordinary purposes. 

The chief objects of interest in the study of 
an Egyptian inscription are its historical indica¬ 
tions. These are found in the names of Kings 
or of chief officers, and in the dates they con- 

in an oval called cartouche. An oval contains 
either the royal title or prsenomen, or the proper 
name or nomen of the King. 

The dates which are found with these royal 
legends are also of great importance in an his¬ 
torical point of view, and monuments which bear 
any numerical indications are exceedingly rare. 
These numerical indications are either the age 
Egyptian pillar. 0 f the deceased on a funeral* tablet, or the num¬ 
ber of different consecrated objects which he has offered to the 
gods, or the date of an event mentioned in the inscription. 


tain. The names of Kings are always enclosed 




















































INSCRIPTIONS. 


863 


Dates, properly so called, are the most interesting to collect; they 
are expressed in hieroglyphic cyphers, single lines expressing the 
number of units up to nine, when an arbitrary sign represents 10, 
another 100, and another 10,000. 

The most celebrated Egyptian inscriptions are those of the 
Rosetta stone. This stone, a tablet of black basalt, contains 
three inscriptions, one in hieroglyphics, another in demotic or 
enchorial, and a third in the Greek language. The inscriptions 
are to the same purport in each, and are a decree of the priest¬ 
hood of Memphis, in honor of Ptolemy Epiphanes, about the 
year B. C. 196. u Ptolemy is there styled King of Upper and 
Lower Egypt, Son of the gods Philopatores, approved by Pthah, 
to whom Ra has given victory, a living image of Amun, son 
of Ra, Ptolemy Immortal, beloved by Pthah, God Epiphanes, 
most gracious. In the date of the decree we are told the names 
of the priests of Alexander, of the gods Soteres, of the gods 
Adelphi, of the gods Euergetse, of the gods Philopatores, of the 
god Epiphanes himself, of Berenice Euergetis, of Arsinoe Phila- 
delphus, and of Arsinoe Philopator. The preamble mentions 
with gratitude the services of the King, or rather of his wise 
minister, Aristomenes, and the enactment orders that the statue 
of the King shall be worshipped in every temple of Egypt, and 
be carried out in the processions with those of the gods of the 
country, and lastly that the decree is to be carved at the foot 
of every statue of the King in sacred, in common and in Greek 
writing ” (Sharpe). It is now in the British Museum. This 
stone is remarkable for having led to the discovery of the sys¬ 
tem pursued by the Egyptians in their monumental writing, and 
for having furnished a key to its interpretation, Dr. Young 
giving the first hints by establishing the phonetic value of the 
hieroglyphic signs, which were followed up and carried out by 
Champollion. 

Another important and much more ancient inscription is the 



8 6 4 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


tablet of Abyclos in the British Museum. It was discovered by 
Mr. Banks in a chamber of the temple of Abydos, in 1818. It 
is now greatly disfigured, but when perfect it represented an 
offering made by Remeses II., of the nineteenth dynasty, to his 
predecessors on the throne of Egypt. The tablet is of fine lime¬ 
stone, and originally contained the names of fifty-two Kings 
disposed in the two upper lines, twenty-six in each line, and a 
third or lower line with the name and prsenomen of Remeses II. 
or III. repeated twenty-six times. On the upper line, beginning 
from the right hand, are the names of monarchs anterior to the 
twelfth dynasty. The names in the second line are those of 
monarchs of the twelfth and the eighteenth or nineteenth dynas¬ 
ties. The King Remeses II. probably stood on the right hand 
of the tablet, and on the other is the lower part of a figure of 
Osiris. The lateral inscription is the speech of the deceased 
King to “ their son ” Remeses II. 

The tablet of Karnac, now in one of the halls of the Biblio- 
theque at Paris, was discovered by Burton in a chamber situated 
in the southeast angle of the temple-palace of Thebes, and was 
published by its discoverer in his “Excerpta Hieroglyphica.” 
The chamber itself was fully described by Rosellitii in his 
“ Monumenti Storici.” The Kings are in two rows, overlooked 
each of them by a large figure of Thothmes III., the fifth King 
of the eighteenth dynasty. In the row to the left of the en¬ 
trance are thirty-one names, and in that to the right are thirty, 
all of them predecessors of Thothmes. The Theban Kings who 
ruled in Upper Egypt during the usurpation of the Hyksos in¬ 
vaders are also exhibited among the lists. Over the head of 
each King is his oval, containing his royal titles. 

A most valuable tablet of Kings has been lately discovered 
by M. Mariette in a tomb near Memphis, that of a priest who 
lived under Remeses II., and was called Tunar-i. It contains 
two rows of Kings’ names, each twenty-nine in number. Six 


INSCRIPTIONS. 


S6 S 


have been wholly obliterated out of the upper row, and five out 
of the lower row. The upper row contains the names of Rem- 
eses II. and his predecessors, who seem all meant for Kings of 
Upper Egypt, or Kings of Memphis who ruled over Upper 
Egypt, while the names in the lower row seem meant for con¬ 
temporaneous High Priests of Memphis, some or all of whom 
may have called themselves Kings of Lower Egypt. The result 
of the comparison of this tablet with other authorities, namely, 
Manetho, Eratosthenes, and the tablet of Abydos, is supposed 
by some to contradict the longer views of chronology held by 
Bunsen, Lepsius and others. Thus, reading the list of names 
backwards from Remeses II. to Amosis, the first of the eigh¬ 
teenth dynasty, this tablet, like the tablet of Abydos, immedi¬ 
ately jumps to the Kings of Manetho’s twelfth dynasty; thus 
arguing that the intermediate live dynasties mentioned by Mane¬ 
tho must have been reigning contemporaneously with the others, 
and add no length of time to a table of chronology. There is 
also a further omission in this tablet of four more dynasties. 
This tablet would thus seem to confirm the views of the oppo¬ 
nents of the longer chronology of Bunsen and others, by striking 
out from the long chronology two periods amounting together to 
1 *>536 years. But a complete counterpart of the tablet of Mem¬ 
phis has been recently found at Abydos by M. Mariette, fully 
•confirming the chronology of Manetho, and bearing out the 
■views of Bunsen and Lepsius. The Moniteur publishes a letter 
from M. Mariette, containing the following statement:— u At 
Abydos I have, discovered a magnificent counterpart of the tablet 
of Sakharah. Seti I., accompanied by his son, subsequently Rem¬ 
eses II. (Sesostris), presents an offering to seventy-six Kings 
drawn up in line before him. Menes (the first King of the first 
dynasty on Manetho’s list) is at their head. From Menes to 
Seti I., this formidable list passes through nearly all the dynas¬ 
ties. The first six are represented therein. We are next intro- 

55 


866 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


duced to sovereigns still unknown to us, belonging to the obscure 
period which extends from the end of the sixth to the beginning 
of the eleventh. From the eleventh to the eighteenth the new 
table follows the beaten track, which it does not quit again dur¬ 
ing the reign of Thothmes, Amenophis, and the first Remeses. 
If in this new list everything is not absolutely new, we at least 
find in it a valuable confirmation of Manetho’s list, and in the 
present state of science we can hardly expect more. Whatever 
confirms Manetho gives us confidence in our own efforts, even as 
whatever contradicts it weakens the results we obtain. The new 
tablet of Abydos is, moreover, the completest and best preserved 
monument we possess in this respect. Its style is splendid, and 
there is not a single cartouche or oval wanting. It has been 
found engraved on one of the walls of a small chamber in the 
large temple of Abydos.” 

An important stone bearing a Greek inscription with equiv¬ 
alent Egyptian hieroglyphics has been discovered by Professor 
Lepsius, at San, the former Tanis, the chief scene of the grand 
architectural undertakings of Remeses II. The Greek inscrip¬ 
tion consists of seventy-six lines, in the most perfect preservation, 
dating from the time of Ptolemy Euergetes I. (B. C. 238). The 
hieroglyphical inscription has thirty-seven lines. It was also 
lound that a demotic inscription was ordered to be added by the 
priests, on a stone or brass stele, in the sacred writing of the 
Egyptians and in Greek characters; this is unfortunately want¬ 
ing. The contents of the inscription are of great interest. It is 
dated the ninth year the seventh Apellseus—seventeen Tybi, of 
the reign of Euergetes I. The priests of Egypt came together 
in Canopus to celebrate the birthday of Euergetes, on the fifth 
Dios, and his assumption of the royal honor on the twenty-eighth 
of the same month, when they passed the decree here published. 
They enumerate all the good deeds of the King, amongst them 
the merit of having recovered in a military expedition the sacred 



INSCRIPTIONS. 


867 

images carried off in former times by the Persians, and order 
great honors to be paid in reward for his services. This tablet 
of calcareous stone with a rounded top, is about seven feet high, 
and is completely covered by the inscription. The discovery of 
this stone is of the greatest importance for hieroglyphical studies. 

We may mention here another 
inscribed tablet, the celebrated Isiac 
table in the Museum at Turin. It is 
a tablet in bronze, covered with Egyp¬ 
tian figures or hieroglyphics engraved 
or sunk, the outlines being filled with 
silvering, forming a kind of niello. 

It was one of the first objects that ex¬ 
cited an interest in the interpretation 
of hieroglyphics, and elicited learned 
solutions from Kircher and others. 

It is now considered to be one of those 
pseudo-Egyptian productions so ex¬ 
tensively fabricated during the reign 
of Hadrian. 

The Egyptian obelisks also pre¬ 
sent important inscriptions. Of these 
the most ancient is that of Heliopolis. 

We have selected these few ex¬ 
amples of Egyptian inscriptions for 
their celebrity. Almost every Egyp¬ 
tian monument, of whatever period, 
temples, statues, tablets, small statues, 
were inscribed with hieroglyphic in- Egyptian column. 

scriptions, all generally executed with great care and finish. 
The Egyptian edifices were also covered with religious or his¬ 
torical tableaux, sculptured and painted on all the walls; it has 
been estimated that in one single temple there existed no less 





































































































868 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


than 30,000 square feet of sculpture, and at the sides of these 
tableaux were innumerable inscriptions, equally composed of 
ingeniously grouped figurative signs, in explanation of the sub¬ 
jects, and combining with them far more happily than if they 
had been the finest alphabetical characters in the world. 

Their study would require more than a lifetime, and we 
have only space to give a few general hints. 

We have a much more accurate knowledge of Greek in¬ 
scriptions than we have of Egyptian palaeography. The Greek 
alphabet, and all its variations, as well as the language, customs, 
and history of that illustrious people, are better known to us. 
Greek inscriptions lead us back to those glorious periods of the 
Greek people when their heroes and writers made themselves 
immortal by their illustrious deeds and writings. What emo¬ 
tions must arise in the breast of the archaeologist who finds in a 
marble worn by time the funereal monument placed by Athens, 
twenty-three centuries ago, over the grave of its warriors who 
died before Potidaea. 

“ Their souls high heaven received; their bodies gained, 

In Potidaea’s plains, this hallowed tomb. 

Their foes unnumbered fell: a few remained 

Saved by their ramparts from the general doom. 

The victor city mourns her heroes slain, 

Foremost in fight, they for her glory died.” 

The most important monumental inscription which presents 
Greek records, illustrating and establishing the chronology of 
Greek history, is the Parian chronicle, now preserved among the 
Arundelian marbles at Oxford. It was so called from the sup¬ 
position of its having been made in the Island of Paros, B. C. 
263. In its perfect state it was a square tablet, of coarse mar¬ 
ble, five inches thick; and when Selden first inspected it it 
measured three feet seven inches by two feet seven inches. On 
this stone were engraved some of the principal events in the 


INSCRIPTIONS. 


869 


history of ancient Greece, forming a compendium of chronology 
during a series of 1,318 years, which commenced with the reign 
of Cecrops, the first King of Athens, B. C. 1582, and ended 
with the archonship of Diognetus. It was deciphered and pub¬ 
lished by the learned Selden in 1628. It makes no mention of 
Olympiads, and reckons backwards from the time then present 
by years. 

Particular attention should be paid, in the interpretation of 
Greek inscriptions, to distinguish the numerous titles of magis¬ 
trates of every order, of public officers of different ranks, the 
names of gods and of nations, those of towns, and the tribes of a 
city; the prescribed formulas for different kinds of monuments; 
the text of decrees, letters, etc., which are given or cited in 
analogous texts; the names of monuments, such as stelae, tablets, 
cippi, etc., the indication of places, or parts belonging to those 
places, where they ought to be set up or deposited, such as a 
temple or vestibule, a court or peristyle, public square, etc.; those 
at whose cost it was set up, the entire city or a curia, the public 
treasure, or a private fund, the names and surnames of public or 
private individuals; prerogatives or favors granted, such as the 
right of asylum, of hospitality, of citizenship; the punishments 
pronounced against those who should destroy or mutilate the 
monument; the conditions of treaties and alliances; the indica¬ 
tions of weights, moneys and measures. 

Another early example of a commemorative inscription of 
which the date can also be positively fixed is that lately discovered 
by Dr. Frick on the bronze serpent with the three heads, now at 
Constantinople, which supported the golden tripod which was 
dedicated, as Herodotus states, to Apollo by the allied Greeks 
as a tenth of the Persian spoils at Platsea, and which was placed 
near the altar at Delphi. On this monument, as we learn from 
Thucydides, Pausanias, regent of Sparta, inscribed an arrogant 
distich, in which he commemorates the victory in his own name 


870 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


as general in chief, hardly mentioning the allied forces who 
gained it. This epigram was subsequently erased by the 
Lacedaemonians, who substituted it for an inscription enumerat¬ 
ing the various Hellenic states who had taken a part in repulsing 
the Persian invaders. The inscription contains exactly what the 
statements of Thucydides and Herodotus would lead us to ex¬ 
pect; the names of those Greek states which took an active part 
in the defeat of the Persians. Thirty-one names have been de¬ 
ciphered, and there seem to be traces of three more. The first 
three names in the list are the Lacedaemonians, Athenians, Corin- 
thians. The remainder are nearly identical with those inscribed 
on the statue of Zeus at Olympia, as they are given by Pausanias. 
The names of the several states seem to be arranged on the 
serpent generally according to their relative importance, and also 
with some regard to their geographical distribution. The states 
of continental Greece are enumerated first; then the islanders 
and outlying colonies in the north and west. It is supposed the 
present inscription was placed on the serpent B. C. 476. 

The dedicatory inscriptions on the statues at Branchidae prob¬ 
ably range from B. C. 580-520. The famous Sigean inscrip¬ 
tion, brought from the Troad to England in the last century, is 
now admitted to be not a pseudo-archaic imitation, as Bockh 
maintained, but a genuine specimen of Greek writing in Asia 
Minor, contemporary, or nearly so, with the Branchidse inscrip¬ 
tions. Kirchhoff considers it not later than Olympiad 69 (B. 
c - 5 ° 4 — 5 °°)- 

A most interesting inscription of the archaic period is the 
celebrated bronze tablet, which Sir William Gell obtained from 
Olympia, and on which is engraved a treaty between the Eleans 
and Hermans. The terms of this specimen of ancient diplomacy 
are singularly concise. Kirchhoff places this inscription before 
Olympiad 75 (B. C. 4S0); Bockh assigns it to a much earlier date. 
In any case, we may regard this as the oldest extant treaty in 


INSCRIPTIONS. 871 

the Greek language. It must have been originally fixed on the 
wall of some temple at Olympia. 

A series of Athenian records on marble has been found in¬ 
scribed on the wall of the Parthenon, while others have been 
put together out of many fragments extracted from the ruins on 
the Acropolis and from excavations at Athens. Of the public 
records preserved in these inscriptions, the following are the 
most important classes: the tribute lists, the treasure lists, and 
the public accounts. 

An interesting inscription has been lately brought to light 
in the diggings on the Athenian Acropolis. It is the treaty-stone 
between Athens and Chalcis. The inscription is of the days of 
Pericles, and records the terms on which Chalcis in Euboea was 
again received as an Athenian dependency or subject ally after 
its revolt and recovery in B. C. 445. The event is recorded in 
Thucydides. The inscription is in Attic Greek, but the spelling 
is archaic. 

Funeral monuments usually bear an inscription which gives 
the names and titles of the deceased, his country, his age, the 
names of his father and of his mother, his titles and his services, 
his distinguished qualities and his virtues. Frequently a 
funereal inscription contains only the names of the deceased, 
that of his country, and acclamations and votive formulae gener¬ 
ally terminate it. 

The Sigean marble is one of the most celebrated palaeo- 
graphical monuments in existence. It is written in the most 
ancient Greek characters, and in the Boustrophedon manner. 
The purport of the inscription, which in sense is twice repeated, 
on the upper and lower part of the stone, is to record the presen¬ 
tation of three vessels for the use of the Prytaneum, or Town 
Hall of the Sigeans. The upper and lower inscriptions, in com¬ 
mon letters, read thus: 

The first inscription is thus translated: “ I am the gift of 


872 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


Phanodicus, the son of Hermocrates, of Proconnesus; he gave a 
vase (a crater), a stand or support for it, and a strainer, to the 
Sigeans for the Prytaneum.” The second, which says, u I also 
am the gift of Phanodicus,” repeating the substance of the 
former inscription, adds, “ if any mischance happens to me, the 
Sigeans are to mend me. TEsop and his brethren made me.” 
The lower inscription is the more ancient. It is now nearly 
obliterated. Kirchhoff considers it to be not later than Olym¬ 
piad 69 B. C. (504-500). 

The Athenian People erects this Statue of Socrates , the Son of 

Socrates of Thoricus. • 

“The Sons of Athens, Socrates, from thee 
Imbibed the lessons of the Muse divine; 

Hence this thy meed of wisdom: prompt are we 
To render grace for grace, our love for thine.” 

Wordsworth's Athens . 

To Perpenna the Roman, 

of Consular dignity, the Senate and People of Syracuse. 

A man by whose wise counsels this city of Syracuse hath 
breathed from its labors, and seen the hour of repose. For 
these services the best of its citizens have erected to him an 
image of marble, but they preserve that of his wisdom in their 
breasts. 

..Museum of Syracuse. 

On a Gateway at Niccca ( Translation"): 

“ The very splendid, and large, and good city of the Nicae- 
ans [erects] this wall for the autocrat Caesar Marcus Aurelius 
Claudius, the pious, the fortunate, august, of Tribunitial author¬ 
ity, second time Proconsul, father of his country, and for the 
Sacred Senate, and the people of the Romans, in the time of the 
illustrious Consular Velleius Macrinus, Legate and Lieutenant 
of the august Caesar Antoninus, the splendid orator.”—A. D. 
269. 



^ HE jjATACOJ'/lBJS. 

The catacombs, or under-ground cemeteries, are among the 
most stupendous wonders of antiquity, and have ever since their 
discovery excited the keenest interest of archaeologists. 

The cut on page 875 is a plan of the catacombs of Rome. 
These alone were years ago computed to be 590 miles in length, 
while Mr. Marchi, in the light of more recent investigations and 
new discoveries has calculated their length to be between 800 
and 900 miles, and, that in the sepulchral enclosures of their vast 
hollows between 6,000,000 and 7,000,000 of the human race 
have been entombed. Most of the catacombs are situated 
from fifty to seventy-five feet below the surface of the earth, not 
a ray of natural light can penetrate the dense blackness of night 
which everywhere abounds. Woe to the man whose boldness 
leads him to venture alone into these dark depths! wSo extensive 
and so intricate are the corridors and passages that he must be 
irrevocably lost and miserably perish in this endless labyrinth. 
Even the most experienced guides, with burning torches in hand, 
would rather follow only thoroughly explored passages, and care 
not to leave well-beaten tracks. 

The passages are from six to twelve feet high and have an 
average width of from three to six feet. In the tufa rock of 
which their walls are composed niches are hollowed out, one 

873 


















«74 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


above the other, in which the dead were laid, from three to six 
persons having been placed on each side. • All the passages and 
galleries have these ghastly linings, and most of them end their 
long and dreary course in a chamber, as the reader may observe 
on examining the cuts below. 

These chambers are otten of large dimensions, and were 
originally adorned with great splendor and high art. They 
were the tombs of wealthy and noble families, who spared neither 
labor nor money in beautifying their final habitations. The 

walls and ceilings were 
exquisitely sculptured and 
painted by the most gifted 
artists of the age. Sar¬ 
cophagi or coffins of 
bronze, of porphyry and 
and other rare marbles 
contained the bodies of 
the dead. On their mas¬ 
sive lids and sides were 
carved the forms and features of those lying within, so that even 
to-day we are in possession of fine and accurate portraits of 
ancient people. Around the sarcophagi were placed rich vases 
of gold, drinking cups of silver, and many other valuable treas¬ 
ures dear to the departed when alive. Statues of bronze and 
marble were ranged about in lavish array and gleamed under 
the soft light which fell from quaint lamps of precious metals, 
curious in shape and wrought with elaborate skill. 

In the Roman Campagna there were forty-three catacombs, 
whose names are recorded in inscriptions, in martyrologies, and 
in the Pontifical Registers used by Anastasius, since republished, 
with additions, in various forms, and repeated in substance by 
Baronius in his Annals, and Panvinius in his treatise on the Cem¬ 
eteries. Aringhi reckons on the number at fifty-six, and from 



SECTIONS OF CATACOMBS WITH CHAMBERS. 




plan of catacombs at rome. (Estimated to be between 800 to 900 miles in length.) 


c c 
-a 

cn 





iSsSsS’ 


IJjjjjjnnMrtiJ 




sV'ti.I —i 




Tim* 1 ,’! 


■ifmr. 






£*"»■» ii i iTT*. | 


SfiiJT 




... 








"illwii 


Si'S 


J^IUnTT 


SiPaiUlfSum!. 


fj»inilmn 








87 6 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS 


the account of Signor de Rossi it appears that the number is 
now reckoned at about sixty. The number of general cemeter¬ 
ies is not so large. 

The original entrances to the catacombs were in many in¬ 
stances by subterranean roads or corridors, sometimes called 
streets. These corridors, which served as entrances to and pas¬ 
sages in the burial-places, were originally old sand-pit roads, 
from which the Pozzolana sand had been extracted; when this 
bed of sand is extracted, the entrance is usually closed. The 
soft bed of Pozzolana sand was, however, not generally used for 
interments, but the harder bed under it, called “tufa granulare.” 
The different horizontal layers or beds of tufa vary very much 
in hardness and also in thickness. 

Although these catacombs may not be the finest cemeteries, 
yet the use of these would be infinitely preferable to the recent 
Roman practice of throwing the bodies of all persons, whose 
families can not afford to buy a piece of land in perpetuity, into 
a pit, in the same manner as the ancient Romans did the bodies 
of their slaves. 

There are three hundred aud eighty pits provided in the 
burial ground of S. Lorenzo, one of which was opened every 
night. All the bodies brought for interment that day or night 
were thrown into it, after being first stripped to the skin by the 
officials; and then hot lime was thrown upon them, that they 
might be thoroughly decayed before the year came round. The 
mouth of the pit was closed with lime grouting, so that no 
effluvium could escape, and this covering was not broken until 
the pit was wanted to be used again. 

These corridors or passages of the sand-pits from which the 
Pozzolana sand had been excavated are lar^e enough to admit a 
horse and cart; these were frequently the entrances to the cata¬ 
combs, the corridors of which are usually by the side of or under 
those of the arenarice , or sand-pits, and are only just large 





INSCRIPTIONS. 


877 

enough for a man, or two men with a body, to pass along; the 
height varies from five to seven or eight feet, or more, according 
to the thickness of the bed of tufa. In the catacomb of S. 
Hermes, part of the wide sand-pit road has been reduced to one- 
third of its width, by building up brick walls on each side with 
loculi in them. 

There is in general, at present, no communication between 
one catacomb and another; each occupies a separate hill or ris¬ 
ing ground in the Campagna, and is separated from the others 
by the intervening valleys. When the first tier of tombs ex¬ 
tended to the edges of the hill, a second was made under it, and 
then sometimes a third, or more. The manner in which the 
rock is excavated in a number of corridors twisting in all direc¬ 
tions, in order to make room for the largest possible number of 
bodies, is thus accounted for. The plan of the catacomb of S. 
Priscilla is a good illustration of this. It would have been 
hardly safe to have excavated the rock to any greater extent. 
The lowest corridors are frequently below the level of the val¬ 
leys, and there may have been originally passages from one to 
the other, so that one entrance to S. Calixtus may have been 
through S. Sebastian’s. The peculiarly dry and drying nature 
of the sandstone, or tufa rock, in which these tombs are exca¬ 
vated, made them admirably calculated for the purpose. These 
catacombs were the public cemeteries of Christian Rome for 
several centuries, and it would have been well for the health of 
the city if they could always have continued so. Unfortunately 
after the siege of Rome by the Goths, in the time of Justinian, 
when some of the catacombs were rifled of their contents, the 
use of these excellent burying places was discontinued. 

That the arenaria were considered as burying places in the 
time of Nero is evident from his exclamations of horror at the 
idea of being taken there alive for the purpose of concealment. 
The sand-pits are also mentioned by Cicero in his Oration for 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 



Cluentius, where he says that the young Asinius, a citizen of 
noble family, was inveigled into one ot them and murdered. 

This shows they were in use before the Christian era, and 
there is every reason to believe that they have been in use ever 

since 1 i me- 





into use, which 
is believed to 
have been many 
centuries before 


STONE COFFIN 


that period. The celebrated Pozzolana sand makes the best 
mortar in the world, from its gritty nature. This valuable sand 
is found to any extent nearly all over the Campagna of Rome, 
in horizontal beds or layers between the beds of tufa; some of 
the tufa itself, which is sandstone, may be scraped into this sand, 
but it is easier to take it as ready provided by nature. People 
once accustomed to the use of this sand can not do without it, 
and hundreds of carts filled with it may be seen daily traversing 
the Campagna, conveying it either to Rome, or to Ostia, or to 
Porto, for exportation. The horizontal layers or beds of this 
sand are not usually more than six feet thick, although they ex¬ 
tend at a certain level over the whole surface of the country. It 
is therefore excavated in horizontal corridors, with various 
branches, extending for many miles, undermining the whole sur¬ 
face of the soil, but not in large or deep pits, so that the name 
of sand-pit is rather deceitful to American people, who com¬ 
monly imagine it to be always a large and deep pit to which 
these roads lead only; this is not always the case, the roads them¬ 
selves being excavated in the layer of sand, and frequently them¬ 
selves the sand-pits. Sometimes there are different layers of 
sand at different levels, and in some cases there may be two 
sand-pit roads one over the other, with the bed of hard tufa be¬ 
tween them. 


























INSCRIPTIONS. 


879 

We are told in the Acta Sanctorum that one of the punish¬ 
ments inflicted on the Christians by the Emperor Maximinus in 
the sixth persecution, A. D. 35, was digging sand and stone. 
The martyrs, Ciriacus and Sisinnus are especially mentioned as 
ordered to be strictly guarded, and compelled to dig sand and to 
carry it on their own shoulders. 

Some of the catacombs were evidently made under tombs 
by the side of the road, and in that of S. Calixtus there are re¬ 
mains of the tomb 
on the surface of 
the ground. The 
burial-chapels of the 

fourth century com- 
stone coffin with open side. monly found over a 

catacomb probably replace earlier tombs. The church of S. 
Urban is now considered to have been a family tomb of the first 
century, made into a church long afterwards. 

Many inscriptions are preserved relating to the preservation 
of a tomb with the land belonging to it in perpetuity, and they 
frequently mention the number of feet along the road and in the 
field. Their size varies enormously. Horace mentions one that 
was 1,000 feet by 300 feet. The inscription of one dug up in the 
Via Labicana gives 1,800 feet by 500 feet; another was only 
twenty-four feet by fifteen feet, and another sixteen feet square. 
In the case of one of the larger tombs belonging to a family that 
became Christian, it was easy for them to make a catacomb 
under it and allow their fellow-Christians to be buried there, or 
to sell portions of the large space for separate vaults. Many 
vaults of sixteen feet square might be made in the space of 1,800 
feet long by 500 feet wide, as the one on the Via Labicana. If 
the adjoining field belonged to the same family, the catacomb 
might be extended as far as the family property itself extended. 
This is the most probable explanation of the prcedium of the 















88 o 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


Lady Lucina and other Christian martyrs. They were heiresses 
to whom such a tomb and meadow belonged. When the space 
was limited, three or four stories were excavated in succession, 
one under the other, as we see in many instances. 

The measurements of Michele de Rossi coincide with this 
in a remarkable manner. He finds the area of each separate 
catacomb to be respectively ioo, 125, 150, 180 and 250 feet. 
None of these spaces are at all too large for the area commonly 
left round a tomb of importance, and the family property of 
this area would extend to any depth. Each cemetery was com¬ 
plete in itself, but sometimes connected with others by subter¬ 
ranean roads. 

These tombs were protected by special laws, and the area 
in which the tomb stood was included with it. The area was 
often of considerable extent, and was intended for the burial- 
place of succeeding generations of the family to whom it be¬ 
longed. The tombs of the period of the early empire were by 
no means exclusively for the columbaria for cinerary urns. The 
instances in which there are both places for bodies and urns are 
perhaps more numerous than those for urns only. The fine 
sarcophagi now found in museums, or applied to all sorts of uses, 
as water-troughs, vases for flowers, and various other purposes, 
were all originally in tombs, and generally in tombs in which 
there were also columbaria for cinerary urns. Some Pagan 
tombs on the Via Latina have catacombs for the interment of 
bodies under them, and often bodies were put in them. 

The custom of burning the bodies was never universal, and 
lasted only for a certain period; the custom of burying bodies 
came in again soon after the Christian era, and probably was 
influenced by the strong feeling which sprung up among the 
Christians on this subject. The sumptuous painted chambers in 
the upper part of the tombs of the first and second centuries on 
the Via Latina were evidently imitated by the poor in the cata- 




5G 


INSIDE VIEW OF CATACOMBS, 


881 





















































































































































































































882 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


combs in the fourth and fifth centuries and later; but there is no 
evidence of any Scriptural or religious subjects for paintings be¬ 
fore the time of Constantine. The character of the paintings is 
almost universally later, and the few that are early are not Chris¬ 
tian nor Scriptural. 

It might very well happen that some members of the family 
were Christians and others were not, and this would account for 
the mixture of Pagan tombs with Christian ones in the same 
catacombs. The subterranean sand-pit roads frequently run 
parallel to the high roads at a little distance from them, and such 
a road passing at the back of the subterranean cemetry or cata¬ 
comb would be very convenient to Christians in time of 
persecution. The part of these roads which came within the 
limits of the cemetery would naturally be used for burial places, 
also, as we see that they were distinctly in the case of S. Hermes, 
and nearly with equal certainty in other cases. In ordinary 
times, there was no necessity for secrecy. The bodies of Chris¬ 
tian martyrs were given up for the purpose of burial to those 
who applied for them. 

The catacombs of SS. Saturnius and Thraso, the entrance 
to which is in the gardens of the Villa Gangalani, about a 
mile from Rome, on the Via Salaria, are stated to have formed 
part of the great catacomb of S. Priscilla, the entrance to which 
is about a quarter of a mile farther from Rome, on the same 
road. On descending into that of S. Saturninus by a steep flight 
of steps of modern appearance, but perhaps restored only, we 
soon pass under the road and hear carriages passing overhead; 
we then continue to descend to the depth of about fifty feet, 
divided into five corridors, only four of which can at present be 
seen; but we pass the entrance to the fifth on one of the stair¬ 
cases, and see the opening to it. The two lower corridors of this 
catacomb have tombs or cubiculct on the sides; a few of these 
are painted, and the vault of the corridor in front of them, also. 


CATACOMBS. 


883 


The sandstone in which this catacomb is made is more than 
usually hard, for which reason apparently there are only three of 
the side chapels for family burying places, and few of the arched 
tombs; most of the recesses for graves are merely parallelograms 
just large enough to contain the body, or two bodies side by 
side, one behind the other, the recess being excavated to a suffi¬ 
cient depth for that purpose, and some of these have the slabs 
covering the openings left in their places. The skeletons are 
allowed to remain in several of the tombs where the slab has 
been removed and left open. One of the chapels has remains of 
paintings of the fourth century in a very decayed state. The 
other two chapels are connected by a short passage; they have 
evidently been family burying places, a second added when' the 
first was full. The passage is made through the principal tomb 
of the first chapel, the body previously interred there was prob¬ 
ably removed to the inner chapel when that was made. The 
painted chapel is in the upper corridor, the double one in the lowest. 

In descending from the garden, the two upper corridors 
have tombs on the sides, and are regular catacombs; the third is 
an arenarium , or sand-pit, without tombs, and large enough for 
a horse and cart to pass along, as in the ordinary sand-pits. 
There must have been another entrance to this, and it is said to 
have been half a mile off, which is not improbable, judging by 
other sand-pits, both those now in use and others that are closed, 
some of which are known to be more than a mile long, and with 
the different branch galleries, the corridors altogether often ex¬ 
tend several miles. These galleries are large and wide enough 
for a horse and cart, but not for two to pass, sidings being made 
at intervals for that purpose. The passages in the catacombs 
vary much both in height and in width, but are seldom more 
than three feet wide. The chapels also vary in size, but none of 
them would hold more than fifty people; those in the present 
catacomb are small. 


88 4 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


That each of these chapels was the burial-place of a family, 
and was considered as private property, is evident from the re¬ 
mains of a door at the entrance of several of them, as in the 
catacomb of S. Priscilla. In one of these, the stone corbel, with 
the hole for the pivot to work in, remains in its place; the lower 
stone, with the corresponding hole, has been moved, but is lying 

on the floor in an adjoining chapel. 
Another door has been made to 
slide up and down like a portcullis 
or a modern sash-window, as we 
see by the groove remaining on 
both sides. This is close to a 
laminaria, or well for admitting 
light and air, and it seems quite 
possible that it really was a window, 
or that the upper part was made to 
slide down to admit the light and 
air from the laminaria . If this 
was the burial-place of Priscilla, the 
paintings were probably renewed in 
the restoration by John I., A. D. 523. The lower part of the 
wall is faced with stucco paneled with oblong panels, colored in 
imitation of different kinds of marble; the stucco is about an 
inch thick, like slabs of marble, and the divisions between the 
panels are sunk to that depth, as if each panel had been painted 
before it was placed and fixed to the walls like marble slabs. 
There are some long narrow slips of white stucco lying about, 
which seem to have been fitted into the hollow grooves between 
the slabs. The vaults in this catacomb are in many parts sup¬ 
ported by brick arches; in one place, at a crossing, are four small 
low brick arches, the character of which agrees with the period 
of the restoration in the sixth century; the mortar between the 
bricks or tiles is about the same thickness as the tiles themselves 



LAMPS FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS. 



















CATACOMBS. 


885 


which are rather more than an inch thick, so that there are five 
tiles to a foot, including the mortar between them. These brick 
arches are not subsequent repairs, but part of the original con¬ 
struction to carry the vault. The cirenarium , or sand-pit gallery, 
through which the present entrance is made, has evidently been 
used as a subterranean road. A branch of an aqueduct running 
along the side of this is part of an extensive system of irriga¬ 
tion carried on throughout all this district, the water having been 
brought from the Aqua Virgo, which passed in this direction. 
It was probably part of the original line of the A'queduct, which 
has been altered in the portion near to Rome; this has not been 
traced out to any considerable extent, but Signor de Rossi has 
found many remains and indications of it. The sand-pit roads, 
or arenaria , ran for miles parallel to the high roads, and were 
probably used by the carters in preference to the open roads in 
hot weather, as they are always cool. 

Christian Inscriptions are all funereal, and are for the most 
part found in the catacombs, or subterranean cemeteries. The 
word cemetery is derived from a Greek word, meaning u a sleep¬ 
ing place,” hence the frequent formulae in the Christian epitaphs, 
“ dormit in pace,” he sleeps in peace; u dormitio Elpidis, 11 the 
sleeping place of Elpis; “ cubiculum Aureliae,” the sleeping 
chamber of Aurelia. The term catacomb was applied to these 
subterranean cemeteries at a much later period. The practice 
* of subterranean burial among the early Christians was evidently 
derived from the Jewish custom of burying the dead in excavated 
sepulchres, and thus may have been adopted by the early Jewish 
converts. The Roman Jews had a very early catacomb of their 
own, in the Monte Verde, contiguous to their place of abode, in 
the Trasteverine quarter of Rome. This subterranean mode of 
sepulture is undoubtedly of Egyptian origin. It is generally sup¬ 
posed that the early Christians used for their burial places the 
excavations made by the Romans for procuring stone and cement 


886 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


for building purposes. This is an erroneous view. Recent geo¬ 
logical observations on the soil of the Agro Romano have shown 
that the surface of the Campagna consists of volcanic rocks of 
different natures .and ages. The earliest of the series, the tufa 
lithoide, was constantly employed from the earliest ages in the 
buildings of the city, as attested by the massive blocks of the 
Cloaca Maxima, the tabularium of the Capitol, and the walls of 
Romulus; the second, or tufa granolare, which though it has just 
consistency enough to retain the form given to it by the excava¬ 
tor, can not be hewn or extracted in blocks; and the pozzolana, 
which has been extensively used in all ages for mortar or Roman 
cement. The tufa lithoide and the pozzolana were thus alone 
used for building purposes by the Romans, and the catacombs 
are never found excavated in these. The catacombs were hewn 
only in the tufa granolare, and were consequently excavated ex¬ 
pressly for burials by the early Christians. The Christian archi¬ 
tects carefully avoided the massive strata of the tufa lithoide, 
and we believe it is ascertained that all the known catacombs 
are driven exclusively along the courses of the tufa granolare. 

V 

With equal care these subterranean engineers avoided the layers 
of pozzolana, which would have rendered their work insecure, 
and in which no permanent rock tomb could have been con¬ 
structed. Thus we arrive at the curious fact, that in making the 
catacombs the excavators carefully avoided the strata of hard 
stone and the strata of soft stone, used respectively for building 
and for mortar, and selected that course of medium hardness 
which was best adapted to their peculiar purpose. The early 
Christian tomb inscriptions are characterized by symbols and 
formulae peculiar to the Christian creed; the idea of another life, 
a life beyond the grave, usually prevails in them. 

The symbols found in connection with the funereal inscrip¬ 
tions are of three kinds; the larger proportion of these refer to 
the profession of Christianity, its doctrines and its graces. A 


CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTIONS. 


887 

% 

second class, of a partly secular desciiption, only indicate the 
trades of the deceased, and the remainder represent proper 
names: thus a lion must be read as a proper name, Leo; an ass, 
Onager; a dragon, Dracontius . Of the first kind the most 
usually met with is the monogram of Christ. The other symbols 
generally in use are the ship, the emblem of the church; the 
fish, the emblem of Christ, the palm, the symbol of martyr¬ 
dom. The anchor represented hope in immortality; the dove, 
peace; the stag reminded the faithful of the pious aspiration of 
the Psalmist; the horse was the emblem of strength in the faith; 
the hunted hare, of persecution; the peacock and the phcenix 
stood for signs of the resurrection. Christ, as the good pastor, 
was also introduced in the epitaph. Even personages of the 
Pagan mythology were introduced, which the Christians em¬ 
ployed in a concealed sense, as Orpheus, enchanting the wild 
beasts with the music (see page 701) of his lyre, was the secret 
symbol of Christ as the civilizer of men leading all nations to 
the faith. Ulysses, fastened to the mast of his ship, was sup¬ 
posed to present some faint resemblance to the crucifixion. 

In classifying the Roman inscriptions, M. de Rossi has 
adopted the following divisions. The first comprises those in¬ 
scriptions only which contain some express note of time, and are 
therefore susceptible of exact chronological arrangement. The 
second comprises the select inscriptions, viz.: first, sacred and 
historical ones, and next those which, either by testimony, by 
forms, or by symbols, illustrate the doctrines, the worship, or the 
morals of the Christians. The third, the purely topographical, 
assigns each inscription its proper place among the ancient 
localities of Rome. This comprises also inscriptions of unknown 
or uncertain locality, as well as inscriptions of spurious origin or 
doubtful authenticity. 

In considering the chronological arrangements of Christian 
inscriptions, it is important to keep in view that in the earlier 


888 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


centuries the Chiristians kept note of time either by the years ol 
the bishop, or by some of the civil forms which prevailed in the 
various countries in which they resided. In Rome the common 
date was that of the consular year. The common use ol the 
Christian era as a note of time began, as is well known, later 
than the sixth century, at which M. de Rossi's series terminates. 
In M. de Rossi's collection one inscription bears date from the 
year A. D. 107, and another from 111. Of the period from the 
year 204, in which the next inscription with a date occurs, till the 
peace of the church in 312, twenty-eight dated inscriptions have 
been found; after the peace of the church the number of dated 
inscriptions increases rapidly. Between the accession of Con¬ 
stantine and the close of the fourth century, his collection con- 
tains 450 dated inscriptions, and the fifth century presents about 
the same number; but in the sixth, the number again declines* 
that century producing little more than 200. 

In those cases where no note of time is marked, M. de 
Rossi has availed himself of other chronological indications and 
tests, founded on the language, on the style, on the names, and 
on the material execution of the inscription, in determining the 
date. Out of the 11,000 extant Roman inscriptions anterior to 
the seventh century, M. de Rossi finds chronological evidence of 
the date of no fewer than 1374. 

There are also varieties in inflection, such as U spiritu sancta 
for “spiritu sancto,” u pauperorum," for “ pauperum,” u vocitus ” 
for u vocatus,”* u requiescent " for u requiescunt,” etc. 

There are also new or unusual terms, or new familiar words 
in new or unusual meanings, such as “ pausavit, rested, bisomus, 
trisomus, quadrisomus," holding two, three, four bodies; compar 
and conpar (husband and wife); fecit for eg\t, passed; “percepit,” 
received, scil . baptism, as also “consecutus est,” in the same 
sense, etc. 

Sometimes Latin is written in Greek characters and some¬ 
times Greek in Latin. 



CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTIONS. 



The age is expressed by “vixit,” or “vixit in sseculo, 

“ annos ” (or “ annis ” “ menses,” u dies ” (or “ diebus ”)-, 

with the number of hours sometimes stated. Sometimes “ qui 
fuit ” stands for “ vixit; 1 ’ sometimes neither is expressed, and we 
have the form in the genitive, “ sal. annorum, 11 etc. 

Frequently the time passed in married life is mentioned, and 
we find such phrases as u vixit mecum, duravit mecum, vixit in 
conjugio, fecit mecum, fecit in conjugio, fecit cum compare,” 
with a precise statement of the number of years, etc., and often 
with some expression marking the happiness of the couple’s 
married life. 

The epithets applied to the deceased indicate strong affec¬ 
tion, and the eulogies are sometimes extravagant. 

The occupation or position in life is stated, with the proper 
titles, in many dated Christian epitaphs. But they are all, it is 
supposed, later than the time of Constantine. 

The same designations of the place of burial and of the 
tomb are found in both Christian and Pagan epitaphs. 

Acclamations or expressions of good wishes or prayers to or 
for the deceased frequently occur in the inscriptions. 

The letters also of these inscriptions are usually very irregu¬ 
lar. They are from half an inch to four inches in height, colored 
in the incision with a pigment resembling Venetian red. The 
sense, too, of the inscriptions is no.t always very obvious. An 
extreme simplicity of language and sentiment is the prevailing 
characteristic of the earlier inscriptions. But, on the other hand, 
exaggerated examples of the opposite style are occasionally met 


with. 

Another peculiarity in these Christian inscriptions is the 
disuse of the three names usually assumed by the Romans. M. 
de Rossi has given twenty inscriptions with the names complete, 
prior to Constantine. Of these, no fewer than seventeen have 
prsenomina, whereas after Constantine prsenomina may be said 

entirely to disappear. 



890 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


The year is usually indicated by the names of the consuls. 
The abbreviation COS for u consulibus ” was in use up to the 
middle of the third century, when COSS, CONS, and CONSS 
began to be adopted; COS is very seldom found during the 
fourth century, and almost never in the fifth or sixth; COSS fell 
into disuse about the first quarter of the fifth century, and after 
that CONS was used; in the time of Diocletian with S for one 
consul and SS for two. At the same time CC. SS. CS were 
introduced, but they were very rarely used in the fifth, and there 
is scarcely an example of them in the sixth. From about the 
middle of the fourth century CONS began to be placed before in¬ 
stead of after the names, and this usage became the prevalent 
custom in the fifth and sixth. 

At the date of the discovery of the Roman catacombs, the 
whole body of known Christian inscriptions collected from all 
parts of Italy fell far short of a thousand in number. Of these, 
too, not a single one was of subterranean origin, and not dated 
earlier than A. D. 553. At present the Christian inscriptions of 
Rome on catacombs alone, and anterior to the sixth century, 
considerably exceed 11,000. They have been carefully removed 
from the cemeteries, and are now systematically arranged by M. 
de Rossi, on the walls of the Christian museum, recently formed 
by order of Pius IX., in the Lateran Palace. A large number 
of these inscriptions are also, inserted in the walls of the Galleria 
Lapidaria in the Vatican. 


INSCRIPTION^. 

VG. VESPASIANO III COS 

IAN A. D. 71. 

This fragment has been received as a part of a Christian 
epitaph by Reggi, Marini and de Rossi. It is the most ancient 
of all such as bear dates. 






EARLY INSCRIPTIONS. 


891 


SERVTLIA. ANNORYM. XIII 
PIS. ET BOL. COSS. 

Servilia, aged thirteen, died in the consulate of Piso and 
Bolanus. A. D. 111. 


TEMPORE. ADRIAN I. IMPERATORIS. MARYIS. ADOLESCENS DVX. 
MILITVM. QVI SATIS. VIXIT DVM YITAM PRO CHO CVM. SANGVINE 
CONSYNSIT. IN. PACE. TANDEM QUIEVIT. BENE MERENTES CVM. 
LACRIMIS. ET. METY. POSVERVNT. I. D. VI. 

“In the time of the Emperor Adrian, Marius, a young mili¬ 
tary officer who had lived long enough, when with blood he gave 
up his life for Christ. At length he rested in peace. The well¬ 
deserving set up this with tears and in fear, on the 6th before 
the ides.” A. D. 130. 


ALEXANDER MORTVVS NON EST SED VIVIT SVPER ASTRA ET CORPVS 
IN HOC TVMVLO QVIESCIT VITAM EXPLEVIT SVS ANTONINO IMP 0 
QVIVBI MVLTVM BENE FITII ANTEVENIRE PRAEVIDERET PROGRATIA 
ODIVM REDDIDIT GENVA ENIM FLECTENS VERO DEO SACRIFICATVRVS 
AD SVPPLICIA DVCITVRO TEMPORA INFAVSTA QVIBVS INTER SACRA 
ET VOTA NE IN CAVERNIS QVIDEM SALVARI POSSIMVS QVID MISERIVS 
VITA SED QVID MISERIVS IN MORTE CVM AB AMICIS ET PARENTIBVS 
SEPELIRI NEQVEANT TANDEM IN COELO CORVSCANT PARVM VIXIT 
QVI 

VIXIT IV. X. TEM, 

“ In Christ. Alexander is not dead, but lives beyond the 
stars, and his body rests in this tomb. He lived under the Em¬ 
peror Antopinus, who, foreseeing that great benefit would result 
from his services, returned evil for good. For, while on his 
knees, and about to sacrifice to the true God, he was led away 
to execution. O, sad times! in which sacred rites and prayers, 
even in caverns, afford no protection to us. What can be more 
wretched than such a life? and what than such a death? when 
they could not be buried by their friends and relations. At 




892 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


length they sparkle in heaven, lie has scarcely lived who has 
lived in Christian times.” A. D. 160. 

From the Cemetery of St. Callisto. 


AVRELIA DULCISSIMA FILIA QVAE 

DE. SAECVLO RECESSJ.T VIXIT ANN. XV. M. IIII. 

SEVERO ET QVINTIN COSS. 

u Aurelia; our sweetest daughter, who departed from the 
world. She lived fifteen years and four months. Severus and 
Quintinus being consuls.” A. D. 325. 


Consule Claudio et Paterno, nonis Novembribus, die 
Veneris, luna XXIV, Leuces filise Severae carissimae posuit et 
spiritui sancto tuo. Mortua annorum LV et mensium XI 
dierum X. 

u In the consulship of Claudius and Paternus, on the nones 
of November, on Friday, the 24th day of the moon, Leuce 
erected (this memorial) to her very dear daughter, and to thy 
holy spirit. She (died at the age) of fifty-live years, and eleven 
months, (and) ten days.” A. D. 269. 


D. M. 

P. LIBERIO VICXIT 
ANN N. V MENSES N. Ill 
DIES N. VIII R. ANICIO 
FAVSTO ET VIRIO GALLO 
COSS 

“ Publius Liberio lived five years, three months, and eight 
days. He retired (from this world) in the consulship of Ani¬ 
cius Faustus and Virius Gallus.” A. D. 298. 


B. M. 

CVBICVLVM. AVRELIAE. MARTINAE. CASTISSIMAE ADQVE. PVDI. 
CISSIMAE FEMINAE QVE FECIT. IN. COIVGIO. ANN. XXIII. D. XIIII. 
BENE MERENTI. QVE VIXIT. ANN. XL. M. XI. D. XIII. DEPOSITIO EIS 
DIE. III. NONAS. OCT. NEPOTIANO. ET FACVNDO. CONNS. IN PACE. 






CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTIONS. 


8 93 


“ To the well-deserving. 

O 

The chamber of Aurelia Martina, my wife, most chaste and 
modest, who lived in wedlock twenty-three years and fourteen 
days. To the well-deserving one, who lived forty years, eleven 
months, and thirteen days. Her burial was on the third nones 
of October. Nepotianus and Facundus being consuls.” In 
peace. A. D. 336. 

Galleria Lapidaria . Vatican. 

Another in Greek characters: 

“ Here lies Euterpe, the companion of the Muses, having 
lived simply and piously, and irreproachably for fifteen years, 
twenty-two days, and three months. She died on the fifth day 
before the calends of December, in consulship of our lords, for 
the tenth time, and for the third time (i. e., in the Consulship of 
Constantine, for the tenth time, and Julian for the third time).” 
A. D. 360. 


ROMANO. NEOFITO 
BENEMERENTI QVI VI 
XIT. ANNOS. VIII. DXV. 

REQVIESCIT IN PACE DN 
FL. GRATIANO. AVG. II. ET. 

PETRONIO PROBO. CS. 

u To Romanus, the neophyte, the well-deserving, who lived 
eight years, fifteen days. He rests in the peace of the Lord. 
Flavius and Gratianus and Petronius Probus being consuls.” 


HIC QVIESCIT ANCILLA DEI QVE DE 

SVA OMNIO POSSIDIT DOMVM ISTA 

QVEM AMICE DEFLEN SOLACIVMQ REQVIRVNT. 

PRO HVNC VNVM ORA SVBOLEM QVEM SVPERIS. 

TITEM REQVISTI ETERNA REQVIEM FELICITA. 

S. CAVSA MANBIS IIIIX. KALENDAS OTOBRIS 
CVCVRBITINVS ET ABVMDANTIVS HIC SIMVL QVIESCIT 
DD. NN. GRATIANO V. ET TEODOSIO. AAGG. 




894 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


Hie quiescit ancilla Dei, quae de suis omnibus possidet 
domum istam, quam amicse deflent solaciumque requirunt. Pro 
hac una ora subole, quam superstitem reliquisti. HrCterna in 
requie felicitatis causa manebis, XIV. kalendis Octobris, Cucur- 
bitinus et Abumdantius hie simul auieseunti. DDNN Gratiano 

X 

v et Theodosio Augustis (Consulibus). 

“Here rests a handmaid of God, who out of all her riches 
now possesses but this one house, whom her friends bewail, and 
seek in vain for consolation. Oh pray for this one remaining 
daughter, whom thou hast left behind! Thou wilt remain in the 
eternal repose of happiness. On the 14 of the Calends of Octo¬ 
ber. Curcurbitinus and Abumdantius rest here together. In 
the consulship of our Lords Gratian (V.) and Theodosius Em¬ 
perors.” A. D. 380. 


HIC POSITA EST ANIMA DVLCES 
INNOCA SAPIENS ET PVLCHRA NOMINE 
QUIRIACE QVE YIXIT. ANNOS. III. M III, DVIII. 

DP IN PACE IIII. ID. IAN. CONSS. DN. TEVDOSIO. 

AVG. II ET MEROBAVDE. YC. III. 

Hie posita est anima dulces (dulcis) innoca (innocua), 
sapiens et pulchra, nomine Quiriace, quae vixit annos III., menses 
III., dies VIII. Deposita in pace, IV. Idus Januarias, Consulibus 
Domino nostro Teudosio (Theodoric) Augusto II. et Merobaude 
Vire Clarissimo III. 

“ Here has been laid a sweet spirit, guileless, wise and beau¬ 
tiful, by name Quiriace, who lived three years, three months, 
and eight days. Buried in peace, in the fourth day before the 
Ides of January, in the consulship of our Lord Theodorius Au¬ 
gustus, for the second time, and Merobaudes, a most distinguished 
man, for the third time.” A. D. 388. 



EARLY INSCRIPTIONS. 


8 95 


PERPETVAM SEDEM NYTRITOR POSSIDES IPSE 
HIC MERITYS FINEM MAGNIS DEFYNCTE PERICLIS 
HIC REQYIEM FELIX SYMIS COGENTIBVS ANNIS 
HIC POSITYS PAPAS ANTIMIOO YIXIT ANNIS LXX 

DEPOSITYS DOMINO NOSTRO ARCADIO II ET FL.RVFINO YYCCSS NONAS 
NOBEMB. 

u You, our nursing father, occupy a perpetual seat, being 
dead, and deserving an end of your great dangers. Here happy, 
you find rest, bowed down with years. Here lies the tutor, 
Antimio, who lived seventy years. Buried on the nones ol 
November; our Lords Arcadius for the second time, and Flavius 
Ruhnus being consuls.” A. D. 392. 

Galleria Lapidaria. 


HIC REQYIESCET IN SOMNO PACIS 
MALA QYI YIXIT ANNOS XXXVIII. M. V. DY. 

ACCEPT A APVT DE IY. IDYS IYNIAS AETIO CONL. 

Hie requiescet (requiescit) in somno pacis, Mala qui (quae) 
vixit annos XXXVIII. menses V. dies V. Accepta aput (apud) 
De(um) IV idus Junias. Aetio Consule. 

“ Here rests in the sleep of peace Mala, who lived thirty- 
eight years, five months, five days. Received before God, on 
the fourth day before the Ides of June, in the consulship of 
Aetius.” A. D. 432. 


LEYIYAE CONIYNX PETRONIA FORMA PYDORIS 
HIS MEA DEPONENS SEDIBYS OSSA LOCO 
PARCITE VOS LACRIMIS DVLCES CYM CONIYGE NATAE 
VIVENTEMQVE DEO CREDITE FLERE NEFAS 
DP IN PACE III NON OCTOBRIS FESTO YC. CONSS. 

“ Petronia, a priest’s wife, the type of modesty. In this 
place I lay my bones; spare your tears, dear husband and daugh¬ 
ters, and believe that it is forbidden to weep for one who lives in 
God. Buried in peace on the 3d nones of October, in the con¬ 
sulate of Festus.” A. D. 472. 




896 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


IN PACE 

AVRELIO. FELICI QYI BIXIT CVM COIYCE 
ANNOS X. VIII DVLCIS. IN COIVGIO 
BONE MEMORIE BIXIT. ANNOS. L. V 
RAPTVS ETERNE DOMVS. XII KAL. IENVARIAS. 

“ In peace 

To Aurelius Felix, who lived with his wife eighteen years 
in sweetest wedlock. Of good memory. He lived fifty-five 
years. Snatched away eternally on the twelfth kalend of Janu¬ 
ary.” 

IRENE IN PACE. ARETVSA IN DEO 

“ Irene sleeps in peace.’' “ Aretusa sleeps in God.” 



“Valeria sleeps in peace.” 


ZOTICVS HIC AD DORMIENDVM. 

“ Zoticus laid here to sleep.” 

DOMITIANUS ANIMA SIMPLEX 
DORMIT IN PACE. 

“Domitianus, a simple soul, sleeps in peace.” 

NICEFORVS ANIMA 
DVLCIS IN REFRIGERIO. 

“ Nicephorus, a sweet soul, in a place of refreshment.” 


















inscriptions from the catacombs. 89) 

PRIMITIVS IN PACE QVI POST 
MVLTaS. ANGVSTIAS FORTISSIMVS MARTYR 
ET. VIXIT. ANNOS P. M. XXXVIII CONIVG SVO 
PERDYLCISSIMO BENEMERENTI FECIT. 

Primitius in peace: a most valiant martyr after many tor- 

merlts \ Aged 38. His wife raised this to her dearest well- 
deserving husband. 11 


LANNVS XPI. MARTIR HIC REQVIESCIT. 

SVB DIOCLIZIANO PASSVS. 

“ Lannus, a martyr of Christ, rests here. He suffered 
under Diocletian.” 


NABIRA IN PACE ANIMA DVLCIS 
QVI BIXIT ANNOS XVI. M. V 
ANIMA MELEIEA 
TITVLV FACTV 
A PARENTES 

“ Navira in peace; a sweet soul who lived sixteen years and 
five months; a soul sweet as honey: this epitaph was made by 
her parents.” 


SEVERO FILIO DVL 
CISSIMO LAVRENTIVS 
PATER BENEMERENTI QVI BI 
XIT ANN. IIII. ME. VIII. DIES. V. 

ACCERSITVS AB ANGELIS VII. IDVS. IANVA. 

“ Laurence to his sweetest son Severus, borne away by 
angels on the 7th ides of January.” 


MACVSPVERINNOCENS 
ESSE IAMINTER INNOCENTIS COEPISTI. 

QVAM STAVILES TIVI HAEC VITA EST 
QVAM TELETVM EXCIP ET MATER ECLESIAE DEOC 
MVNDO REVERTENTEM COMPREMATVR PECTORVM 
GEMITVS STRVATVR FLETVS OCVLORVM. 

“ Macus (or Marcus) an innocent boy. You have already 
begun to be among the innocent ones. How enduring is such a 







8 9 8 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


life to you! How gladly will your mother, the church of God, 
receive you, returning to this world! Let us restrain our sighs 
and cease from weeping.” 

Galleria Lapidaria. 


PAX 

HIC MIHI SEMPER DOLOR ERIT IN AEVO 
ET TVVM BENERABILEM BVLTVM LICEAT VIDERE SOPORE 
CONIVNX ALBANAQVE MIHI SEMPER CASTA PVDICA 
RELICTVM ME TVO GREMIO QVEROR. 

QVOD MIHI SANCTVM TE DEDERAT DIVINITVS AVTOR 
RELICTIS TVIS IACES IN PACE SOPORE 
MERITA RESVRGIS TEMPORALIS TIBI DATA REQVETIO 
QVE VIXIT ANNIS XLV. MENV. DIES XIII 
DEPOSITA IN PACE FECIT PLACVS MARITVS 

Peace. 

“ This grief will always weigh upon me: may it be granted 
me to behold in sleep your revered countenance. My wife, 
Albana, always chaste and modest, I grieve, deprived of your 
support, for our Divine Author gave you to me as a sacred 
(boon). You, well-deserving one, having left your (relations), 
lie in peace—in sleep—you will arise—a temporary rest is 
granted you. She lived forty-five years, five months, and thir¬ 
teen days. Buried in peace. Placus, her husband, made this. n 

Galleria Lapidaria. 


CHURCH OF S. SEBASTIAN “ IN CATACUMBIS.” 
i. Inscription of Pope Damasus in Honor of S. 
Eutychius, the Martyr, in twelve verses (on the left 
hand on entering the church). These inscriptions are very 
numerous in the catacombs, and all of this beautiful calligraphy, 
and usually in Latin verse, not without elegance of style, though 
the construction of the sentences is sometimes not- clear. Dama¬ 
sus restored all the catacombs, after they had been damaged 
during the persecution under Julian the Apostate. 






EARLY INSCRIPTIONS. 


899 

EYTYCHIYS . MARTYR . CRVDELIA . IVSSA . TYRANNI 
CARNIFICVMQ . YIAS . PARITER . TVNC . MILLE . NOCENDI 
VINCeRE . QVOD . POTVIT . MONSTRAY IT . GLORIA . CHRISTY 
CARCeRIS . INLVVIEM . SEQVITVR . NO YA . POENA . PER . ARTVS 
TESTARYM . FRAGMENTA . PARANT . NE . SOMNVS . ADIRET 
B1SSENI . TRANSIERE . DIES . ALIMENTA . NEGANTVR 
MITTITYR . IN . BARATHRUM . SANCtYS . LAY AT . OiMNIA . SANGvIS 
VYLNERA . QVAE . INTVLERAT . MORTIS . METYENDA . TOTESTAS 
NOCTE . SOPORIFERA . TYRBANT . INSOMNIA . MENTEM 
OSTENDIT . LATEBRA . INSONTIS . QVAE . MEMBRA . TENERET 
QYAERITYR . INVENTYS . COLITVR . FOVET . OMNIA . PRESTANS 
EXPRESSIT. DAM AS VS . MERITYM . VENERARE . SEPVLChQVM f 

“That Eutychius, the Martyr, was able to overcome the 
cruel orders of the tyrant, and equally at that time the execu¬ 
tioners’ thousand ways of torment, the glory of Christ shewed. 
A new punishment follows the tilth of the prison. They provide 
breaking of tiles on his limbs, to prevent sleep approaching. 
Twice six days passed, food is refused. The saint is thrown 
into a pit, blood bedews all the wounds which the dread power 
of death had caused. In night, which usually brings sleep, 
sleeplessness troubles his mind. The place of concealment which 
held the limbs of the innocent, manifested them(?). He is 
sought for, being found he is reverenced, he benefits all things. 
Damasus shewed forth his exceeding meiit, venerate his tomb. 

2 . Another Inscription in the same Catacomb 
Church (over a door on the right-hand side, looking towards 

the altar). 

VISITET HIC . PIA . MENS . SCTORVM . BVSTA . FREQVENTER 
IN CRISTO . QYORYM . GLORIA . PERPES . ERIT 


HIC EST CEMETERIY . BE ATI . CHALIXTI . PAPE . ET . MARTIRIS 
INCLITI QVICVQVE . ILLVD . COTRICTVS . ET . COFESSVS MNGRESSVS 
FVERIT . PLENAM . REMISSIONE. OMNIV. PECTORV . SVORV . OBTINEBIT 
PER MERITA . GLORIOSA . CENTV. SEPTYAGINTA . QVATY OR . MILIV 
SCTORV MARTIRV . QVORV . IBI . CORPORA . IN . PACE. SEPYLTA . SY I 
VN\ CV OYADRAGINTA . SEX . PONTIFICIBVS . BEATIS . QVI . OMNES 
lx MAGNA TRIBVLATIONE . YENERVT . ET . VT . HEREDES . IN . DOMO 
DOMINI . FIERET . MORTIS . SVPPLICIYM . PRO . CRISTI . NOMINE 

PERTYLERVNT 




900 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


u Here let the pious mind often visit the tombs ot the saints, 
Whose glory will be everlasting in Christ.” 

u Here is the cemetery of the blessed Calixtus, renowned 
Pope and Martyr. Whoever shall have entered it contrite and 
after confession, shall obtain full remission of all his sins, through 
the glorious merits of 174,000 martyr saints, whose bodies are 
buried here in peace, together with forty-six blessed pontiffs, who 
all came out of great tribulation, and suffered the punishment of 
death for Christ’s name, that they might become heirs in the 
Lord’s house.” 


x - 

PAIjMTINQjB. 

If the tombs of the early martyrs, before “ the peace of 
the church,” were commonly decorated with paintings at all, 
which is not probable, it is almost certain that some of those 
paintings have been renewed at various subsequent periods. 
The best monuments of the first three centuries are the tomb¬ 
stones with inscriptions and small simple emblems incised upon 
them. 

It is difficult to decide by the art of drawing only between 
the end of the third and the beginning of the fourth century. 
But this art was in the height of perfection in the first century, 
in the second it was still very good, in the third it had begun to 
decline, but not so rapidly as to justify the assumption that the 
very bad drawings in the catacombs belong to that period, with 
the exception of those already mentioned as not Christian. The 
drawing of the figures in the mosaic pictures in the vault of S. 
Constantia, which are of the first half of the fourth century, are 
decidedly better than any of the Scriptural subjects in the cata¬ 
combs. The mosaic pictures of the fifth century on the sides of 




PAINTINGS. 


9OI 


the nave of S. Maria Maggiore, published by Ciampini, are much 
more like them. 

S. Paulinus, bishop of Nola, writing in the fifth century, 
says that he had painted a catacomb, for the pilgrims , and gives 
his reasons for doing so. He thought good to enliven the whole 
temple ol S. Felix, in order that these colored representations 
might arrest the attention of the rustics, and prevent their drink¬ 
ing too much at the feasts. The temple here evidently means 
the tomb or crypt in which the commemorative feasts were held, 
and were represented by paintings. Plis expressions imply that 
such paintings were not then a received custom. 

That the painted vaults in the catacombs were used for 
feasts on various occasions in the same manner as the painted 
chambers in the Pagan tombs, is evident from the manner in 
which several writers of the fourth and fifth centuries mention 
them; in addition to the letters of Paulinus of Nola and S. 
Augustine, and the hymns of Prudentius, there is also a remark¬ 
able passage in a sermon of Theodoret on the Martyrs (written 
about A. D. 450): 

“ Our Lord God leads His own even after death into the 
temples for your Gods, and renders them vain and empty; but 
to these [Martyrs] He renders the honors previously paid to 
them. For your daily food and your sacred and other feasts of 
Peter, Paul, and Thomas, and Sergius and Marcellinus, and 
Leontius, and Antoninus, and Mauricius, and other martyrs, the 
solemnities are performed; and in place of the old base pomp 
and obscene words and acts, their modest festivities are cele¬ 
brated, not with drunkenness and obscene and ludicrous exhibi¬ 
tions, but with hearing divine songs and holy sermons, and 
prayers and praises adorned with tears. When, therefore, }ou 
would dilate on the honor of the martyrs, what use is there in 
sifting them? Fly, my friends, the error of demons, and under 
their guidance seize upon the road that leads to God, and wel- 


902 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


come their presence with holy songs, as the way is to eternal 
life.” 

Bosio enumerates six cubicula or family burial-chapels in the 
cemetery or catacomb of Priscilla, and thirteen arched tombs 
with paintings. These pictures, of which he gives engravings, 
were far more perfect in his time than they are now. His en¬ 
gravings are good for the period when the) 7 were executed; but 
it was a time when all drawing was bad, slovenly, and incorrect, 
so that the general idea only of the picture is all we can expect. 
The costume and ornaments do not indicate any very early 
period of art, but rather a time when it had declined consider¬ 
ably. Costume in Rome, as in the East generally, was far more 
stationary and less subject to changes than in the West, and 
these may be as early as the fourth or fifth century, but can 
hardly be earlier. Several of the martyrs buried in the Via 
Salaria suffered in the tenth persecution under Diocletian, called 
the great persecution, about the year 300: the decorations of 
their tombs, therefore, can not be earlier than the fourth century, 
and many of them have been restored or renewed at subsequent 
times. John I., A. D. 523, is recorded to have renewed the 
cemetery of Priscilla, and this probably means that he renewed 
the paintings in the style of his own time, as 'the greater part of 
the paintings now remaining are of the character of that period. 

On comparing the costumes of the figures in this catacomb 
with those in the illuminations of the celebrated manuscript of 
Terence, usually attributed to the seventh or eighth century, 
and which can hardly be earlier than the fifth, we see at once 
that the long flowing robe was the ordinary costume of the 
period, and that the narrow scarf of black ribbon hanging over 
the shoulders, with the ends reaching nearly to the ground, was 
the usual badge of a servant. This seems to have been adopted 
as part of the costume of a Christian going to pray to God, 
whether in a church or chapel or any other place, emblematical 


PAINTINGS. 


9°3 


of the yoke of Christ, as Durandus says. The surplice and 
stole of the priest of the Anglican Church is a more close copy 
of this ancient costume than any now worn in the Roman church. 
The rich cope, cape, or cloak was the dress of the Roman sena¬ 
tor and of the Pagan priests; it was probably adopted by the 
Bishop of Rome when he assumed the title and office of Pontifex 
Maximus, and after a time the custom was followed by other 
bishops and priests of his communion. 


QLAJSjS V^E£. 


A valuable work on the ancient glass vases found in the 
catacombs was published by F. Buonarotti in Florence, nearly 
simultaneously with the work of Boldetti on the catacombs, and 
of Fabretti on the inscriptions found in them. This is the foun¬ 
dation of all the subsequent works on the subject; the figures 
are badly drawn and engraved, according to the fashion of the 
period, but many of the later works are not much better. The 
subjects are generally the same as in the paintings on the walls: 
the Good Shepherd, more numerous than any other; Adam and 
Eve, Moses striking the Rock, Noah and the Ark, the raising of 
Lazarus, Peter and Paul, generally busts — these are very 
numerous. Both the style of drawing and the character of the 
inscriptions indicate late dates and frequent copying from the 
same type. In one are three figures, S. Peter, S. Paul, with S. 
Laurence seated between them. S. Agnes occurs frequently, 
always drawn as in the usual type of the eighth century. Other 
busts are evidently portraits of persons interred. In some are 
the father, mother and child;—one has the name of Cerontius; 
another of two busts, Cericia and Sottacus;—another is a family 
°roup, father, mother and font children, the name is paitly 




TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


9°4 

broken off .... n .. . bvsvistris. p. z. remains.—Abraham 
with a drawn sword in his hand, and Isaac with his eyes bound* 
kneeling at his feet, with the ram. A tall female figure wit h the 
hands uplifted in prayer; the inscription is petrvs pavlvs ane, 
possibly for Agnes. Another similar subject consists of two 
figures seated facing each other; over the left hand figure the 
name Cristvs, over the right hand one istefanvs. Several 
of the subjects are distinctly Pagan; others are evidently from 
the Jews’ catacomb, as two lions guarding the ark, and under 
them two of the seven-branched candlesticks, with leaves and 
vases and palm-branch. 


2. calixtu^. 

This is one of the earliest of the catacombs; it is mentioned 
at a very early period as a burying-place then in use, not as 
being then just made. Michele de Rossi, in the course of his 
investigations in this catacomb, found a brick staircase and some 
brick loculi , evidently an alteration of and addition to the orig¬ 
inal catacombs, and the stamps on these bricks were those of 
Marcus Aurelius, A. D. 161-180. This staircase is in the lower 
part of the catacomb, made for the purpose of enlarging it, and 
seems to show that the ground had been used as a cemetery in 
the first century. The original part was probably made before 
there were any Christians to be buried. Although the staircase 
is later, and the bricks used again, they were probably found on 
the spot. 

Calixtus is said to have been entrusted with the government 
of the clergy, and set over the cemetery by Zephyrinus his prede¬ 
cessor, before he became bishop or pope. This expression, over 
the cemetery , seems to prove that the whole of the catacombs 




S. CALIXTUS. 


9° 5 


were considered ns one cemetery, nnd thnt he hnd the general 
superintendence of the burial of the Christians. 

This is the catacomb usually exhibited to strangers and now 
used for pilgrimages; its present state is very uninteresting to 
the archaeologist. The upper part of it nearest to the entrance 
has been so much restored that it has lost all archaeological im¬ 
portance. I his portion ot the catacomb is illuminated on cer¬ 
tain occasions, and is employed to excite the devotion of the 
faithful. A low mass is said at an altar fitted up in the ceme¬ 
tery chapel ot S. Caecilia, on the anniversary of her martyrdom, 
and this part ot the catacomb on that occasion is illuminated 
with candles. 

The other parts are in the usual state, stripped of nearly 
every inscription, and the graves empty. The earliest inscrip¬ 
tion from this catacomb, of ascertained date, is of A. D. 268 or 
279; it is dated by the names ot the consuls, which would apply 
to either ot these two dates. One important inscription of 
Bishop Damasus is preserved, and is valuable in many ways; it 
shows that the cemetery chapel, in which it was found, was made 
in his time, and the slab of mar He on which it is engraved has a 
Pagan inscription on the back of it, evidently proving that it was 
used merely as a slab of marble, without reference to that inscrip¬ 
tion. It shows for what purpose some of the Pagan inscriptions 
found in the catacombs may have been brought there.- Two small 
and very curious tombstones, consisting of mosaic pictures said to 
have been taken from this catacomb, are now preserved in the sac¬ 
risty of the church of S. Maria in Trastevere. They were for 
some centuries in the nave, built into one of the piers; but during 
the restorations made in 1868-76, they were removed and built 
into the wall of the sacristy. One represents a landscape, with 
building in the style of the third century, and a harbor or a lake 
with a vessel, and fishermen dragging in a great net, evidently 
intended for the miraculous draught of fishes. This is an ex- 


9 o6 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


tremely curious mosaic picture, the probable date of which is the 
beginning of the fourth century. The other small mosaic repre¬ 
sents birds of various kinds, and is much earlier than the view of 
the harbor, perhaps as early as the first century. Possibly the birds 
were intended to be symbolical of the souls of the faithful. These 
are engraved by Ciampini in his work on Mosaics. Some of the 
original paintings [Bosio gives, on eight plates, engravings of a 



PAINTED CEILING. 


number of vases and lamps found in this catacomb, several views 
of cubicula , and upwards of seventy paintings. The same subjects 
have been repeated by Perret and Signor de Rossi.] remain in 
the lower part of this catacomb that have not been restored, and 
these are of the usual subjects: Daniel and the two lions, Moses 
striking the rock, the raising of Lazarus, etc. 































S. CALIXTUS. 


9°7 


THE LA^T gUPPER. 

S. CALIXTUS. 

This painting has more the appearance of being really in¬ 
tended for the Last Supper than most of the paintings of this 
class. The central figure has a certain dignity about it. Upon 
the round plates on the table are fishes, and the eight baskets are 
full of bread. It may be a Christian painting of a bad period, 
and intended to commemorate some of our Lord’s miracles. 
The principal lines on the edges of the dresses have been re¬ 
newed. This painting is under an circo-solium in the chapel of 
the Sacraments, the burial-place of the Bishops of Rome in the 
third century. All the paintings in that part of this great cata¬ 
comb that is usually open to the public, and in which masses are 
said on certain occasions, have long been said by well-informed 
persons to have been restored within the last twenty years, but 
this is now denied by the Roman Catholic authorities. 

An engraving of this painting is given by Bosio in the sixth 
arco-solium of this catacomb, p. 523; he calls it Christ and the 
Apostles. It is also given by Perret in the modern French 
style, vol. i. p. 28; and by Dr. Northcote in plate xiii., much 
embellished by color and improved by the skill of modern artists. 


2. PQNTiANUjS. 

The Baptistery, with the Baptism of Christ painted on the 
wall, over the arch. He is represented standing in the River 
Jordan up to His waist in water, in which fishes are swimming, 
and at which a hart is drinking; the Holy Dove is over His 
head. S. John Baptist is standing on the bank, and pouring 
water on His head, or perhaps only holding out his hand to 



90 S TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 

touch it. On the opposite side is another figure in a white dress, 
hiding his face. All the three figures have the nimbus. 

AN AGAPE. 

An Agape, or love-feast, is a common subject of the paint¬ 
ings in the catacombs, and sometimes seems to be evidently a 
representation of the family gatherings that were held on the 
anniversaries in these tombs, in the same manner as they were 
in the painted tombs in the Via Latina or the Via Appia. These 
paintings are often supposed to be the Last Supper, and some¬ 
times may be so, but the one before us can hardly be intended 
for Christ and his Apostles. 

CHRIST AND THE CHURCH. 

These two figures, one on either side of a small table, on 
which are two dishes, one with a fish upon it and the other with 
bread, are supposed to reptesent our Lord after the Resurrection, 
and the Christian Church in the form of a woman, with the 
hands uplifted in the Oriental attitude of prayer, such as is 
usually called in the catacombs an Orante. This explanation is 
of course conjectural only, but seems not improbable. The 
painting is so much damaged that it is difficult to tell to what 
period it belongs. A part of this great catacomb is as early as 
the second century. In this passage stravit may mean covering 
the walls with slabs of porphyry also, as well as the floor. It is 
evident that in several instances the word plcitonia is applied by 
Anastasius to a chapel lined with marble plates for inscriptions, 
as at S. Sebastian’s. 

HEAD OF CHRIST IN AN AUREOLE.-MARY, MOTHER OF 

CHRIST, AND MARY MAGDALENE.-ST. MARK, 

ST. PAUL AND ST. PETER. 

This cemetery or catacomb is on the western side of 
the Tiber, about half a mile beyond the Porta Portuensis, on 
the road to Porto, but on the hill above, and on a higher 




chamber of a catacomb. (With head of Christ, etc., of the first century.) 
































































































































































































































































910 


TOMBS AND CATACOMBS. 


level than the road in what is now a vineyard. The soil in 
which this catacomb is made is quite different from the others; 
instead of the granular tufa, or volcanic sand, which is the soil 
generally used for them near the Via Appia and the Via Ardea- 
tina, this is an alluvial soil formed by the action of water on the 
bank of the Tiber. Whether from this cause, or from some 
others that have not been explained, the paintings in this cata¬ 
comb are far more perfect than those in any other; they are the 
most celebrated and the most popular, and those that have been 
more often engraved and published than any others. 

The picture of the head of Christ is a very fine one, in an 
aureole or circular nimbus, with the cross on it, called also a 
cruciform nimbus. This head has been many times engraved 
and published, and it is amusing to compare those commonly 
sold in the shops of Rome with the original as shown in the 
photograph. These will illustrate the manner in which the 
clever modern artists have improved upon the originals; it is 
difficult to understand that they are intended for the same pic¬ 
ture. 

The figures of the three saints, St. Paul, St. Peter, and St. 
Mark, are painted on the ceiling, while Mary, the Mother of 
Christ, and Mary Magdalene are over and on the left side of the 
head of Christ. 




























TTO W TJ« MPW 


It may seem presumptuous for us to undertake to write 
upon this subject. 11 It is to paint the sun with charcoal,” for the 
most scholastic divine to give his reflections on the Word of God. 
With the most devout feeling of the infinite value of such an 
article or the great evil which might result from the complexity 
of its appearance, we have concluded that nothing but the most 
reverential feeling of the sacredness of the subject can secure us 
from falling into dangers not to be lightly regarded, not merely 
in regard to facts, but in respect also to comments and reflections; 
but with this caution such an article may be rendered eminently 
edifying and interesting. 

Why should we conclude this work, in this age of infidelity, 
without at least stating what was known of the Bible? Why 
should we not bring the “ cloud of witnesses ” of the ruins we 
have already described? The discovery of the Assyrian and 
Babylonian historic records running contemporaneously with 
Scripture narratives have afforded innumerable points of proof. 
From the ruins of Nineveh and the Valley of the Nile; from the 
slabs and bas-reliefs of Sennacherib and the tombs, the cata¬ 
combs with their 1,100 Christian inscriptions, and the monuments 
of Pharaoh; from the rolls of Chaldee paraphrasts and Syrian 4 
versionists; from the cells and libraries of monastic scribes and 
the dry and dusty labors of scholars and antiquarians, the 

9 IT 












912 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


skepticism of history has almost been silenced by the vivid 
reproductions of the ancient and eastern world. 

An attentive perusal of the present volume will afford many 
illustrations of these remarks. Knowing that the substance ol 
the narrative is drawn from sources of indisputable authority, the 
reader can have no anxiety respecting the truth of the facts 
recorded. He will, therefore, be able to resign himself alto¬ 
gether to the gracious influence which such a history is calcu¬ 
lated to exercise on the mind. 

The assistance which the reader will derive from a well- 
arranged narrative of these sublime events will be found of 
importance, not only as exciting attention to facts, otherwise less 
noticed, but as habituating him, in perusing the divine originals, 
to arrange and classify the several portions of the history for 
himself. When this ability is acquired, the mind will have a 
readier command over the materials of reflection, and the several 
arguments on which the proof of heavenly truth is founded will 
be seen with greater distinctness, and appreciated with a more 
practical feeling of their strength and value. 

With the assistance of the many scholarly productions on 
this matter, why should we not at least set the Bible side by side 
with Homer, Herodotus, Virgil, Horace, and others, which have 
already taken quite a space in the present work. The Scripture 
surely contains, independently of a divine origin, more true sub¬ 
limity, more exquisite beauty , purer morality , more important 
history , and finer strains both of 'poetry and eloquence , than 
could be collected within the same compass from all other books 
that were ever composed in any age or in any idiom. 

The Bible accords in a wonderful manner with universal 
history. There is nothing more common in history than the 
recognition of a God. Sacred and profane history alike involve 
this principle. The fictions of the poets respecting the different 
-ages of the world coincide with Scripture facts. The first, 


ACCORDANCE WITH ANCIENT WRITINGS. 


913 


or Golden Age, is described as a paradisiacal state, feebly 
representing the bliss of the first pair in Eden, Gen. ii. And the 
second, or Iron Age, described in the fiction of Pandora and her 
fatal box of evils, which overspread the earth, is in accordance 
with the history of the introduction of evil into the world, 
Gen. iii. The celebrated Vossius shows, with great ingenuity, 
the similitude there is between the history of Moses and the 
fable of Bacchus. The cosmogony of the ancient Phoenicians is 
evidently similar to the account of creation given by Moses, 
and a like assertion may be made respecting the ancient Greek 
philosophy. Travel north, south, east and west, and you find 
the period employed in creation used as a measure of time, 
though no natural changes point it out as a measure, as is the 
case with the month and year. Consult the heathen classics, the 
records of our Scythian ancestors, the superstitions of Egypt, of 
the Indies, both East and West, and, indeed, of all the varied 
forms in which superstition has presented herself, and in one or 
in all you meet with evidences of a universal flood, of man’s fall, 
of the serpent having been the instrument in it, of propitiatory 
sacrifices, of the expectation of a great deliverer. The long 
lives of men in the early ages of the world are mentioned by 
Berosus, Manetho, Hiromus and Plelanicus, as also by Plesoid 
and many other writers quoted by Josephus, and afterwards by 
Servius, in his notes on Virgil. Pausanius, Philostratus, Pliny 
and several other writers give us accounts of the remains of 
gigantic bodies which have been found in the earth, serving in 
some decree to confirm Moses’ account of the antediluvian 

o 

giants. Berosus, the Chaldean historian, quoted by Josephus, 
and Abidenus by Eusebius, Plutarch, Lucian, Molo, Nicholas 
Damascenus, as well as many of the heathen poets, mention the 
deluge; and some traditions respecting it are to be found among 
the Americans and Chinese; not to mention what some modern 
travelers have fabulously related concerning some ruins of the 


9 H 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


ark, said to remain on Mount Ararat, and to have been seen 
there a few centuries ago. Alexander Polyphistor quotes Arta- 
panus and Eupolemus, as mentioning the Tower of Babel; and 
the former speaks of it as built by Belus. Strabo, Pacitus r 
Pliny, etc., give us an account of the destruction of Sodom and 
Gomorrah and the neighboring cities, in the main agreeable to 
that of Moses. Herodotus, Diodorus, Strabo, etc., mention cir¬ 
cumcision as a rite used by several ol those nations into which,, 
according: to Moses, Abraham traveled, or which were descended 
from him. Berosus, and several others, make expr'ess and 
honorable mention of Abraham and some of his family. Eupo¬ 
lemus and Dins, as quoted by Eusebius and Grotius, mention 
many remarkable circumstances of David and Solomon, agree¬ 
ing with the Old Testament story. As for the mention of 
Nebuchadnezzar, and some of the succeeding kings of Babylon, 
as well as of Cyrus and his successors, it is so common in 
ancient writers, as not to need a more particular notice of it. 
And very many passages of the Old Testament are mentioned 
by Celsus, and objections to Christianity formed upon them. Is 
not all this in favor of the credibility of the Old Testament? 
And with respect to the New Testament, we have the testimony 
of Tacitus and Suetonius to the existence of Jesus Christ, the 
Founder of the Christian religion, and to His crucifixion in the 
reign of Tiberius, and during the procuratorship of Pontius 
Pilate, the time in which the evangelists place that event. 
Porphyry, also, though an inveterate enemy to Christianity, not 
only allowed that there was such a person as Christ, but honored 
Him as a most wise and pious man, translated into heaven as 
being approved by the gods; and accordingly quotes some 
oracles, referring both to His sufferings and virtues, with their 
subsequent rewards. Celsus, likewise, an Epicurean philosopher, 
full of enmity to the Christian religion, mentions numberless 
circumstances in the history of Christ, indeed so many, that an 


ACCORDANCE WITH ANCIENT WRITINGS. 


9 r 5 

abstract of the Christian history might almost be taken from the 
very fragments of his book preserved by Origen, and never 
pretends to dispute His real existence, or the truth of the facts 
recorded of Him. Hierocles, a man of learning and a magis¬ 
trate, who wrote against the Christians, speaks of Jesus as 
extolled by the Christians as a*god; mentions Peter and Paul by 
name; and refers both to the Gospels and to the Epistles. The 
Emperor'Julian, in the fourth century, called “Apostate,” writes 
ol the birth of Jesus in the reign of Augustus; bears witness to 
the genuineness and authenticity of the Gospels, and the Acts of 
the Apostles; and allows that Jesus Christ wrought miracles. 
He aimed to overthrow the Christian religion, but has confirmed 
it. The slaughter of the infants at Bethlehem is attested by 
Macrobius; the darkness at the crucifixion is recorded by 
Phlegon, and quoted by Origen. The manners and worship of 
the primitive Christians are distinctly named by Pliny. The 
great dearth throughout the Roman world, foretold by Agabus, 
in the reign of Claudius (Acts xi. 28), is attested by Suetonius, 
D ion, Josephus, and others. The expulsion of the Jews from 
Rome by Claudius (Acts xviii. 2) was occasioned, says Suetonius, 
by the insurrection they had made about Chrestus, which is his 
way of spelling Christ. It has been repeatedly proved, with 
laborious research, and profuse erudition, that vestiges of all the 
principal doctrines of the Christian religion are to be found in the 
monuments, writings, or mythologies of all nations and ages. 
And the principal facts contained in the Gospels are confirmed 
by monuments of great fame subsisting in every Christian 
country at this very day. For instance, baptism in the name 
of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, the rite by which from the 
bemnnincr me n have been initiated into the Church of Christ, 
and the profession of Christianity. The Lord's Supper, cele¬ 
brated in memory of the dying love of Christ. And the stated 
observation of the first day of the week, in honor of Christ's 


916 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE 


resurrection from the dead. Who can say, and prove, that this 
is not evidential of the truth and credibility of the New Testa- 



FRIEZE FROM THE ARCH OF TITUS. 


rrient? What but inspiration could have produced such internal 
harmonv, and such external accordance? 































































































































































































NO BOOK PRODUCED BY CHANCE. 


917 


Of the monuments, none is more striking than the 
Arch of Titus. This celebrated structure was erected by the 
Senate and the people of Rome in estimation of the services of 
Titus in conquering the Jews. It is probable that the monument 
was completed after the death of Titus. It consists of a single 
arch of Grecian marble, of exquisite proportions, with fluted col¬ 
umns on each side. The frieze, which gives it special interest and 
value, is on the right-hand side passing under the arch going 
towards the Coliseum. It represents the triumphal procession of 
captive Jews, the silver trumpets, the tables of shew-bread, and 
the golden candlestick, with its seven branches. The candlestick 
itself is said to have been thrown into the Tiber from the Milvina 
Bridge, on the occasion of the battle between Maxentius and 
Constantine. Should the proposal to turn the course of the 
Tiber be carried into effect it is not impossible that this precious 
relic may yet be recovered. 

No book was ever produced by chance. Ever) 7 volume in 
the world is indebted for its existence to some being or beings. 
And the Bible, we are assured, could not but have had an intelli¬ 
gent author. But within the range of intelligence there exist 
only bad beings, good beings, and God. Hence, among these 
must be found whatever originates in intelligence, for this classi¬ 
fication includes all beings that are intelligent. Now that bad 
beings—wicked men and infernal spirits—could not have origi¬ 
nated a book so full of goodness, is a reasonable opinion; for it 
bears no resemblance to such an origin. It commands all duty, 
forbids all sin, and pronounces the heaviest penalties against all 
unholy conduct; and as darkness can not originate light, so 
neither can evil originate good. Nor would it help the matter 
to suppose that good beings—pious men and holy angels—were 
the contrivers of these well-arranged records; for they neither 
could nor would write a book, ascribing their own inventions to 
divine inspiration; especially as such forgeries are most severely 






918 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


reprobated in every part of it. As therefore God is the only 
remaining being within the range of intelligence to whom the 
Scriptures can be reasonably ascribed, they must, of necessity, 
have been written by Him. And, indeed, the Bible is a work as 
much exceeding every effort of mere man as the sun surpasses 
those scanty illuminations by which his splendor is imitated, or 
his absence supplied. 

We are now conducted, by fair and consecutive reasoning, 
to our last general proposition, which is this: God was the author 
of the Bible . 

By the Bible we mean, of course, both the Old‘and New 
Testaments. “ The two Testaments,’ 1 says one, “ may be 
likened to the double-doors of the Temple—the Old is the New 
infolded—the New is the Old unfolded.” The New Testa¬ 
ment distinctly recognizes the Old as a revelation from God; 
and, referring to the Canon as received by the Jews, declares the 

books of which it consists genuine and credible. And by God 

» 

being the author of the Bible we mean that it was “given by 
inspiration of Him.” It may be necessary here to define certain 
terms which either have been, or may be, hereafter, employed in 
this essay. And these are:—Scripture; Testament; Inspiration; 
Gospel; Christianity; and Religion. Scripture, from scriptura, 
signifies writing—applied by way of eminence to what is written 
in the Bible. Testament, from testamentum, a deed or will; but 
according to another rendering the appropriate name of the Bible 
is, the Old and New Covenants; namely, the Mosaic and the 
Christian. Inspiration, from spiro, signifies I breathe. “ By the 
divine inspiration of the Holy Scriptures,” says an able writer, 
“ I mean, such an immediate and complete discovery, by the 
Holy Spirit to the minds of the sacred penmen, of these things 
which could not have been otherwise known, and such an effec¬ 
tual superintendency as to those matters of which they might be 
informed or by other means, as entirely to preserve them from 






GOD THE AUTHOR. 


919 


all error, in every particular which could in the least affect any 
of the doctrines or commandments contained in their writings.” 

O 

Gospel, from god, good, and spell, a history, a narrative, or mes¬ 
sage; and which denotes good news, glad tidings, news from 
God—applied emphatically to the book which contains the recital 
of our Saviour's life, miracles, death, and so on. Christianity, 
from christianitas, signifies the religion of Christians. And 
Religion, from religare, signifies to tie or bind, because by true 
religion the soul is tied or bound, as it were, to God and His 
service. These things being premised, we shall be justified in 
proceeding to establish our proposition; namely, that God was 
the author of the Bible. And we hold this to be demonstrable. 

From its great antiquity. It is acknowledged to be the 
oldest book in the world. Its records embrace the creation of 
the world, the origin of man, the introduction of evil, the fall 
and recovery of our race; and it contains the only rational ac¬ 
count ever given of these momentous matters. We can trace 
the Bible to the time of the Caesars, beyond that to the transla¬ 
tion of the Septuagint, and beyond that we can carry the proof 
up to the separation of the Jews and Samaritans; we can ascend 
up to the time when we discover that the law must have been 
given by a person called Moses to a people in the wilderness, at 
a time when idolatry was universal, and just as we have the facts 
recorded in the nineteenth and twentieth chapters of the book of 
Exodus. And if Moses did not get the law from God, the get¬ 
ting it at all—the having it then.as- it is—is just as great a miracle 
as its coming from God Himself; and you may take your choice 
of the miracles—for the one is as great a miracle as the other. 
Tatian, one of the Greek fathers, tells us, that “ Though Homer 
was before all poets, philosophers, and historians, and was the 
most ancient of all profane writers, yet Moses was more ancient 
than Homer himself.” Tertullian, another celebrated writer of 
the second century, speaks to the same effect. The Pagans 






920 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


themselves have not denied that the books of Moses were extant 
many ages before the states and cities of Greece; before their 
temples and gods; and also before the beginning of Greek let¬ 
ters.” He moreover adds, “ Moses lived five hundred years, 
before Homer’s time; and the other prophets who came a long 
time after Moses were yet more ancient than any of the wise 
men, lawgivers, and philosophers of Greece. And as the writ¬ 
ings of Homer were a pattern to them, so in like manner he fol¬ 
lowed the writings of the prophets, as they were then known and 
spread abroad in the world.” And the excellent and learned Sir 
W. Jones, adverting to the same point, remarked, “ The antiq¬ 
uity of these writings no man doubts.” 

From its uncorrupted preservation. Though it has been 
hated and held in utter detestation by thousands, yet it has been 
preserved amidst all the revolutions of time, and handed down 
from generation to generation, even until now. And that it is in 
all essential points the same as it came originally from the hands 
of its authors, we have the most satisfactory evidence that can 
be required. “With regard to the Old Testament,” says the 
late learned William Greenfield, u the original manuscripts were 
long preserved among the Jews, who were always remarkable 
for being most faithful guardians of their sacred books, which 
they transcribed repeatedly, and compared most carefully with 
the originals, of which they even numbered the words and let¬ 
ters. That the Jews have neither mutilated nor corrupted these 
writings is fully proved by the silence of the prophets as well as- 
of Christ and His apostles, who, though they bring many heavy 
charges against them, never once accuse them of corrupting one 
of their sacred writings; and also by the agreement, in every 
essential point, of all the versions and manuscripts, amounting to 1 
nearly 1,150, which are now extant, and which furnishes a clear 
proof of their uncorrupted preservation. 

One of the most wonderful and ancient of these is the Pen- 


THE PENTATEUCH 


921 



tateuch 




PENTATEUCH, WRITTEN 3200 YEARS AGO. 


material much older than that, written 
deep and seven and a half wide. The 


in columns twelve inches 
writing is in a fair hand 


N. 








































































































































































TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


922 

but not nearly so large or beautiful as the book copies which I 
had previously examined. The writing being rather small each 
column contains from seventy to seventy-two lines. The name 
of the scribe is written in a kind of acrostic, and forms part ol 
the text, running through three columns and is found in the book 
of Deuteronomy. It was the work of the great grandson of 
Aaron, as indicated in the writing. The roll has all the appear¬ 
ance of a very high antiquity, and is wonderfully well preserved, 
considering its venerable age. 

u One of the halves of the metal cylinder is very curious and 
deserves more attention than it has received at the hands of 
Biblical archaeologists. It is of silver, about two feet and six 
inches long, by ten or twelve inches in diameter, and is covered 
with embossed work with a descriptive legend attached to each 
portion. It proves to be the Tabernacle of the Wilderness. 

“ In fact, the constant reading of the sacred books, which 
were at once the rule of their faith and of their political consti¬ 
tution, in public and private; the numerous copies of the original 
as well as of the Septuagint version, which was widely spread 
over the world; the various sects and parties into which the Jews 
were divided after their canon was closed, as well as their disper¬ 
sion into every part of the globe, concurred to render any at¬ 
tempt at fabrication impossible before the time of Christ, and 
after that period, the same books being in the hands of the 
Christians, they would instantly have detected the fraud of 
the Jews if they had endeavored to accomplish such a design, 
while the silence of the Jews, who would not have failed to 
notice the attempt if it had been made, is a clear proof that they 
were not corrupted by the Christians. 

“ Equally satisfactory is the evidence for the integrity and 
incorruptness of the New Testament. The multiplication of 
copies, both of the original and of translations into a variety of 
languages, which were read, not only in private, but publicly in 


PRESERVATION OF THE SCRIPTURES 


9 2 3 

the religious assemblies of the early Christians; the reverence of 
the Christians for these writings; the variety of sects and here¬ 
sies which soon arose in the Christian Church, each of whom 
appealed to the Scriptures for the truth of their doctrines, 
rendered any material alteration in the sacred books utterly 
impossible; while the silence of their acutest enemies, who would 
most assuredly have charged them with the attempt if it had 
been made, and the agreement of all the manuscripts and ver¬ 
sions extant, are positive proofs of the integrity and incorruptness 
of the New Testament; which are further attested by the 
agreement with it of all the quotations which occur in the 
writings of the Christians from the earliest age to the present 
time. In fact, so far from there having been any gross adulter¬ 
ation in the Sacred Volumes, the best and most able critics have 
proved that, even in lesser matters, the Holy Scriptures of the 
New Testament have suffered less from the injuries of time and 
the errors of transcribers than any other ancient writings what¬ 
ever; and that the very worst manuscript extant would not 
pervert one article of our faith, nor destroy one moral precept.” 

Add to this the testimony of the British Critic. “Not one 
syllable penned by eight obscure authors of the Scriptures of the 
New Testament, received by the Church as canonical at the 
death of John, has been lost in the course of eighteen centuries. 
Yet of the historical works of Tacitus half at least are wanting; 
out of the one hundred and forty-four books of Livy only thirty- 
five exist; the collections of Atticus have entirely perished; the 
orations of Hortensius are known only through the allusions of 
his rival; and the literary fame of the great dictator survives 
but in two narratives, one of which has sometimes been doubted. 

‘ Where is the wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the dis- 
puter of this world? ’ May it not be the power of God which, 
amidst this wreck of eloquence and learning, has preserved un¬ 
mutilated, even to these later, days, the simple and unstudied 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


9 2 4 

compositions of the illiterate Galileans—the impassioned but 
rugged addresses of the tent-maker of Cilicia?” Dr. Adam 
Clarke, no mean judge, pronounced by the late Rev. Robert 
Hall to have been “ an ocean of learning,” said, “ I have 
diligently examined the question, and I can conscientiously say 
that we have the Sacred Oracles, at least in essential sum and 
substance, as they were delivered by God to Moses and the 
prophets; and to the Church of Christ by Jesus, His evangelists 
and apostles; and that nothing in the various readings of the 
Hebrew and Greek manuscripts can be found to strengthen any 
error in doctrine or obliquity in moral practice. Ah is safe and 
sound—all is pure and holy.” And the judicious Selden, whom 
Grotius calls “the glory of the English nation,” in his “ Table 
Talk,” speaking of the Bible, says, “ The English translation of 
the Bible is the best translation in the world, and renders the 
sense of the original best; taking in for the English translation 
the Bishop’s Bible as well as King James’. The translators in 
King James’ time took an excellent way. That part of the 
Bible was given to him who was most excellent in such a tongue,, 
and then they met together, and one read the translation, the 
others holding in their hands some Bible, either of the learned 
tongues, or French, Spanish, or Italian, etc. If they found any 
fault they spoke, if not he read on.”* 

From its important discoveries. It makes discoveries to 
man on the most momentous subjects, which natural reason 
never could have made. One of the ancients said, “ The Bible 
is the history of God.” It reveals all that is needful to be known 
of the existence, nature, perfections, relations, mind and will of 
God. It discloses the whole history of man—opening with his 
creation, continuing with his present state, and closing with his 
eternal destiny. It lays open the amazing love of God to man, 
the plan of redemption, the means of salvation and the cleansing 

* King James’ Bible is that now commonly used in this country and Great Britain. 



ITS IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES. 


9 2 5 


nature of the blood ot Christ. It furnishes answers to the most 
interesting and perplexing questions ever suggested to man by 
himself, or propounded to him by his fellow-beings; and thus 
supplies him with that information which no other volume can 
impart. It points a second life, unveils eternity, and speaks of 
the resurrection of the body—the immortality of the soul—a 
judgment to come—a heaven, the gift of redeeming love—and a 
hell, the dire desert of sin. In one word, it is God’s heart 
opened to man—a map of heaven—an infallible rule of life—an 
immovable ground of hope—an everlasting spring of consolation 
—and the only sure guide to eternal life and happiness. A fine 
old writer beautifully remarks, “ What is there not in the holy 
Scriptures? Are we poor? There is a treasury of riches? Are 
we sick? There is a shop of soul-medicines. Are we fainting? 
There is a cabinet of cordials. Are we Christless? There is 
the star that leads to Christ. Are we Christians? There are 
the bands that keep in Christ. Are we afflicted? There is our 
solace. Are we persecuted? There is our protection. Are we 
deserted? There is our recovery. Are we tempted? There 
.are our sword and victory. Are we young? There is our 
beauty. Are we old? There is our wisdom. While we live, 
here is the rule of our conversation; when we die, here is the 
hope of our glorification. So that I may say with Tertullian, C I 
.adore the fullness of the Scripture. 1 Oh blessed Scriptures! 
Who can know them and not love them ? Who can love them 
and not delight to meditate in them night and day? Who can 
meditate in them and not desire to love them, love to desire 
them, and both desire and love to understand them? This is 
the Book of books, as David said of Goliah’s sword, ‘ There’s 
none like that.’ ” The Bible is, indeed, what that great philos¬ 
opher, the Honorable Robert Boyle, called it, “that matchless 
book.” We have often thought that the sublime descriptions which 
it gives of God, the humbling and exalting doctrines which it 










926 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


reveals, and the high-toned morality which it inculcates, are 
of themselves proofs decisive of its divine authority. For, cer¬ 
tainly, there is nothing like them in the most admired productions 
of the most celebrated authors, either in ancient or modern 
times. 

From its peculiar style . How remarkably simple and 
plain! No histories were ever so plainly related as those ot the 
Bible: no precepts were ever so clear, or promises less ambigu¬ 
ous. How wonderfully grand and sublime! Whenever the 
matter requires it, the style is 

“ Like the ladder in the Patriarch’s dream, 

Its foot on earth, its height beyond the skies.” 

Witness many of the Psalms; the book of Job; the prophets, 
especially, Isaiah xl. and xliii.; and the Apocalypse. And how 
astonishingly concise and expressive! The sacred writers never 
burden their subject with a load of words. They express them¬ 
selves in words few, and well-chosen—“in comely dress, without 
the paint of art.” Witness the Proverbs; 1 Cor. xiii., etc. 
“ Let there be light,” is noticed by the great critic Longinus, 
as a truly lofty expression. And the style of Scripture has 
awakened the attention even of infidels. Rousseau was struck 
with the majesty of the Scriptures. His eloquent eulogium on 
the Gospel and its author is well known. Dr. Tillotson observes: 
“The descriptions which Virgil makes of the Elysian Fields and 
the Infernal Regions fall infinitely short of the majesty of the 
holy Scriptures when describing heaven and hell, so that in com¬ 
parison they are childish and trifling;” and yet, perhaps, he had 
the most regular and best governed imagination of any man, and 
observed the greatest decorum in his descriptions. “ There are 
I know,” said the elegant Joseph Addison, “ men of heavy tem¬ 
per and without genius, who can read the words of Scripture 
with as much indifference as they do other papers; however, I 
will not despair to bring men of wit into a love and admiration 



ITS HARMONY. 


9 2 7 

of the sacred writings, and, old as I am, I promise myself to see 
the day when it shall be as much the fashion among men of 
politeness, to admire a rapture of St. Paul’s, as a fine expression 
of Virgil or Homer; and to see a well-dressed young man pro¬ 
duce an evangelist out of his pocket, and be no more out of 
countenance than if it were a classic printed by Elzevir.” 

From its internal harmony . Though written at different 
periods, by persons residing in different parts of the earth, and 
by persons whose natural abilities, education, habits, employ¬ 
ments, etc., were exceedingly varied, yet where is there any real 
contradiction? The sacred writers exactly coincide in the exhi¬ 
bition they give us of God; of man; of sin and salvation; of this 
world and the next; and, in short, of all things connected with 
our duty, safety, interest, and comfort. They all were evidently 
of the same judgment, aimed to establish the same principles, 
and applied them to the same practical purposes. They could 
not write by concert—comparing notes, etc., for they lived in 

different times and places; and yet the exact coincidence that is 

» 

perceived among them, by the diligent student, is most astonish¬ 
ing, and can not be accounted for on any rational principles 
without admitting that they “ wrote as they were moved by the 
Holy Ghost.” 

“Whence, but from heaven, should men, unskilled in arts, 

In different nations born, and different parts, 

Weave such agreeing truths; or how, or why 
Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie? 

Unasked their pains; ungrateful their advice; 

Starving their gains, and martyrdom their prize.” 

From its striking impartiality. The amanuenses or pen¬ 
men of the Holy Ghost for the Scriptures were not contemptible 
or ordinary, but incomparable and extraordinary persons. As 
Moses, “ the meekest man on earth,” the peculiar favorite of 
God, with whom God “talked face to face;” the None-such of 


928 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


all the prophets in Israel. Samuel, the mighty man in prayer. 
David the King, “that man after God’s own heart.” King 
Solomon, that “wisest of all the Kings,” whom God honored 
with the building of the Temple. Daniel, in whom was found 
“ an excellent spirit,” and great dexterity in u expounding 
secrets and mysteries.” John, u the disciple whom Jesus loved ” 
above all the rest, who “leaned on Jesus’ breast.” Paul, “who 
was caught up into the third heavens,” “ whose writings,” saith 
Chrysostom, “ like a wall of adamant, compass about, or surround 
all the churches.” In a word, “ all of them holy men of God, 
moved by the Holy Ghost.” The moral character of the sacred 
penmen is above suspicion: their greatest enemies have never 
attempted to throw the least stain upon their characters. Many 
of them were actually present at the scenes which they describe; 
eye-witnesses of the facts, and ear-witnesses of the discourses 
which they describe. They could not, therefore, be deceived 
themselves: nor could they have the least inducement to deceive 
others. They honestly record their own mistakes and faults, 
as well as the other particulars of the story. Every candid per¬ 
son must admit that the Scriptures are remarkable for faithful¬ 
ness of narrative, and that, contrary to the practice of other his¬ 
tories, they do not conceal the faults of the persons they describe. 
The faults of Abraham and Jacob are detailed, as well as their 
virtues; and the incredulity of Thomas, and the defection of 
Peter, are not concealed, but faithfully recorded. The apostles, 
especially, seem everywhere to forget that they are writing of 
themselves, and appear not at all solicitous about their own repu¬ 
tation, but only that they might represent facts just as they were, 
whatever might be the consequences. Hence they readily con¬ 
fess, not only the meanness of their original employments, and 
the scandals of their former life, but their prejudices, follies, 
faults, unbelief, cowardice, ambition, rash zeal, foolish conten¬ 
tions, etc. How faithful is the pen of inspiration—here truth 



ITS IMPARTIALITY. 


9 2 9 

with impartial hand clips her pencil, now in brighter, now in 
darker colors, and thus draws her characters to the very life. 
Dr. Beattie justly says. “ The style of the Gospel bears intrin¬ 
sic evidence of its truth. We find there no appearance of arti¬ 
fice or party spirit; no attempt to exaggerate on the one hand, or 
depreciate on the other; no remarks thrown in to anticipate ob¬ 
jections, nothing of that caution which never fails to distinguish 
the testimony of those who are conscious of imposture; no 
endeavor to reconcile the reader’s mind to what may be extra¬ 
ordinary in the narrative; all is fair, candid, and simple.” And 
we number this among the proofs of the Divine authority of the 
Bible. 

From its stupendous miracles. Miracle, from miraculum, a 
wonder, a prodigy. “A miracle,” says Horne, u is a sensible 
suspension or controlment of, or deviation from, the known laws 
of nature.” It is a signal act of Divine Omnipotence, that which 
no other being but God can do. Miracles flow from Divine 
power, and are the proper evidence of a Divine mission. The 
reality of the miracles recorded in Scripture, wrought by Christ, 
and by prophets and apostles, may be proved by the number and 
variety —their being performed publicly , and not in a corner— 
before enemies as well as before friends— instantaneously , and 
and not by degrees—and independent of all second causes—were 
such as all men could examine and judge of—and all served an 
important end , worthy of a Divine author: viz., to establish 
Divine truth. How superior the miracles wrought by Moses 
and Aaron to those wrought by the wise men and the sorcerers, 
and the magicians of Egypt! Witness the transformation of the 
rod, Exodus vii. 10-12—the production of the annoying vermin 
lice— Exodus viii. 16-19—the plague of darkness, Exodus x. 
22-24—the dividing of the Red Sea, Exodus xiv. 21-31. These 
bear all the characters of true miracles. And how far above 
the pretended supernatural doings of Mohammed, and the alleged 

59 










930 TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 

Pagan and Romish miracles, were the wonderful deeds of Christ 
and Ilis apostles! For example, our Saviour stilled the tempest, 
calmed the ruffled ocean, walked upon the sea, fed the famished 
multitude, opened the eyes of the blind, unstopped the ears of 
the deaf, healed the sick, cleansed the lepers, cast out devils, 
raised the dead, and restored Himself to life; and His apostles 
healed the lame, cast out a spirit of divination, gave the Holy 
Ghost, restored the dead to life, etc. Every ingenuous mind 
must see in these all the characters of real miracles. Ponder 
Matt. xi. 2-6; and John xiv. n. Nicodemus, a Pharisee and 
ruler among the Jews, was so struck with the extraordinary 
character of our Lord’s miracles that he came to Him, saying, 
u Rabbi,” excellent master, “ we know that Thou art a teacher 
come from God: for no man can do these miracles that Thou 
doest, except God be with Him.” And miracles we think, with 
Nicodemus, show that a prophet or religious teacher comes from 
God, because God would not work a miracle in attestation of a 
falsehood, or to encourage a false teacher. When, therefore, a 
miracle is wrought in 'confirmation of anything, or as evidence 
of anything, we know that the thing is true, because God has 
given to it His testimony. Every real miracle is a work of God, 
done by His permission, and with His concurrence; it is there¬ 
fore, emphatically, the testimony of God. And that greatest of 
miracles, the resurrection of our Lord Himself from the dead, 
crowns the whole, and clearly attests the Divinity of the Bible, 
and the truth of the Christian religion. 

From its wonderful 'prophecies. Prophecy is a declaration 
of something to come; a prediction of future events. It is the 
foretelling of such future things as were beyond the reach of 
human sagacity, and which, therefore, none but God could 
reveal. What mere man can foretell the events of to-morrow? 
Who can say what shall transpire in ages to come? This is the 
sole prerogative of God, who alone knows the end from the 


ITS PROPHECIES. 


931 


beginning. Now the Bible abounds with predictions which 
were uttered long before their actual fulfillment, and which no 
human sagacity or foresight could possibly conjecture or foretell. 
Take the first gospel promise given—the seed of the woman to 
bruise the serpent’s head; and remember that this promise was 
delivered at least four thousand years before its fulfillment. The 
celebrated prediction of Jacob (Gen. xlix. 10) was uttered 
between sixteen and seventeen hundred years before it took 
place. Moses declared the siege of Jerusalem by the Romans, 
etc. (Deut. xxviii. 49, etc.), fifteen centuries previously. In the 
first book of Kings (chap. xiii. 2, 3) there is a prophecy con¬ 
cerning Josiah by name, three hundred and thirty-one years; 
and in Isaiah (xlv. 1) concerning Cyrus, one hundred years, 
before either of them were born. According to the predictions 
of the prophets Nineveh has been desolated (Nahum i. 1, 2, 3); 
Babylon swept with the bosom of destruction (Isaiah xiii. 14); 
Tyre become a place for the spreading of nets (Ezekiel xxvi. 
4, 5); Egypt the basest of the kingdoms, etc. (Ezekiel xxix. 
14, 15). Daniel distinctly predicted the overthrow, in succession, 
of the four great empires of antiquity—the Babylonian, the 
Persian, the Grecian and the Roman, all of which has taken 
place. Not only are the leading features of the character of 
Christ delineated with the faithfulness of history hundreds of 
years before He appeared, but there is scarcely an incident in 
Elis life which prophecy has overlooked. And according to the 
predictions oV the New Testament we see Jerusalem in ruins; 
the Temple not rebuilt; the Jews scattered, but not destroyed; 
the conversion of the nations to Christianity; the many anti- 
christian corruptions of the Gospel; the idolatry, tyranny and 
persecution of the Roman hierarchy, etc. What prescience does 
all this imply—prescience no where to be found but in God! 
u Let now the infidel or the skeptical reader meditate thoroughly 
and soberly on these predictions. The priority of the records to 




93 2 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


the events admits of no question. The completion is obvious to 
every competent enquirer. Here, then, are facts. We are 
called upon to account for those facts on rational and adequate 
principles. Is human foresight equal to the task? Enthusiasm? 
Conjecture? Chance? Political contrivance? If none of these, 
neither any other principle that may be devised by man’s 
sagacity, can account for the facts; then true philosophy, as well 
as true religion, will ascribe them to the inspiration of the 
Almighty. Every effect must have a cause.” Prophecy is a 
species of perpetual miracle. And the prophecies of Scripture 
do not come short of the fullest demonstration which the case 
will admit of, that the books that contain them are the unerring 
word of God. 

From its holy tendency. It came immediately from God, 
and leads immediately to Him. It bears on it the stamp and 
impression of Deity; and is, emphatically and really, “ the power 
of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.” It contains 
the most excellent precepts—the most weighty exhortations— 
and the most precious promises. The Bible teaches us the best 
way of living; the noblest way of suffering; and the most com¬ 
fortable way of dying. The word of God, accompanied by His 
Spirit, conveys strength to the weak, wisdom to the simple, 
comfort to the sorrowful, light to those who are in darkness, and 
life to the dead. It introduces the infinite God as speaking in a 
manner worthy of Himself; with simplicity, majesty and authority. 

It- places before us the most important doctrines. For ex¬ 
ample, the doctrine of the Trinity of persons or substances in 
the Unity of the Godhead—the proper, supreme, and eternal 
divinity of Christ—the personality, divinity, and offices of the 
Holy Spirit—the great works of creation and providence—the 
fall of man from the mortal image of God—the necessity, nature, 
and extent of redemption—repentance toward God, and faith 
toward the Lord Jesus Christ—justification through the blood of 














ITS AIMS. 


933 


the cross—the witness of the Spirit in the soul of believers— 
regeneration by the Spirit of God—holiness in heart and life— 
the resurrection of the dead—the general judgment—and the 
eternity of future rewards and punishments. 

It inculcates the highest morality. The love of God, and 
the love of our neighbor—the doing to others as we would they 
should do to us—the forgiving of our enemies—the living 
u soberly ”—in the use of food, apparel, and all things relating 
to ourselves, u righteously 11 —in the performance of all duties 
towards our neighbors, and “ godly ”—worshiping God in a 
right manner—the checking of all impurity of thought and de¬ 
sire—the rendering of honor to whom honor, and tribute to 
whom tribute, is due—the cultivation of humility, meekness, 
gentleness, placability, disinterestedness, truth, justice, benefi¬ 
cence, charity, and other virtues—and the avoidance of pride, 
discontent, despair, revenge, cruelty, oppression, contention, adul¬ 
tery, suicide, and other vices and crimes which injure mankind. 

It preserves from all error. It is an infallible rule of judg¬ 
ment and of practice, and clearly teaches what we ought to 
believe and what we ought to do—it enlightens the mind, informs 
the judgment, instructs the heart, and saves from those “ faults 
in the life,” which “breed errors in the brain.” All error—false 
judgment of things, or assent unto falsehood—springs from 
ignorance of the Scriptures, Mark xii. 24; John vii. 17; 2 Tim. 
hi. 13-17. 

It promotes holiness and peace here , as well as leads to 
happiness and heaven hereafter. “ Wherewithal shall a young 
man cleanse his way?” Psalm cxix. 9, 103-105. “ The law of 

the Lord is perfect, converting the soul,” Psalm xix. 7-11. 
What an eulogy is this on the perfection of the sacred writings! 
the perfection of their utility—their certainty—their purity— 
their value—their comforts—their peace—and their sweetness. 
And this eulogy was pronounced by a prophet, a poet, and a 
king—no common assemblage. 


























934 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


It secures to the lover of it, in a rich degree , the Divine 
favor. “ Thus saith the Lord, the heaven is my throne, and 
the earth is my footstool; but to this man will I look, even to 
him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my 
word. 1 ’ “ Such a heart,” says Matthew Henry, “ is a living- 
temple of God; He dwells there, and it is the place of His rest; 
it is like heaven and earth, His throne and His footstool.” 

A nd it furnishes the most powerful motives to the practice 
of its precepts. For its rewards are such as u eye hath not 
seen, nor ear heard;” and its threats are eminently calculated to 
terrify offenders. The Bible everywhere abounds with an in¬ 
tenseness of zeal for the Divine glory, and with a depth of self- 
renunciation on the part of the writers. And what a contrast 
does it, in this respect, exhibit to all other productions of author¬ 
ship! In Scripture, God is all in all: in other writings, man is 
always a prominent, and generally the sole claimant of praise 
and admiration. And no man can attentively peruse the sacred 
volume without being awe-struck. For O how solemn and 
inspiring! and how admirably calculated to restrain from sin, 
and to sublimate the views and feelings! We say, therefore, 
that no man can diligently read the Scriptures without becoming 
a wiser and better man. The celebrated John Locke, whose 
pure philosophy taught him to adore its source, said, with his 
dying lips, when tendering his advice to a young nobleman, 
“ Study the Holy Scriptures, especially the New Testament; for 
therein are contained the words of eternal life: it hath God for 
its author—salvation for its end—and truth, without any mixture 
of error, for its matter.” 

“It sweetly cheers our drooping hearts. 

In this dark vale of tears.” 

It does more— 

“ It sheds a lustre all abroad, 

And points the path to bliss and heaven.” 



ITS AIMS 


935 


u ’Tis for our light and guidance given.’ 1 And O what a 
source of light, and strength and peace! How it clears the 



8 


life 


SHISHAK AND HIS CAPTIVES ON SCULPTURED WALL AT KAKNAC 


understanding, and fills the soul with sweet delight! How it 
quickens our inactive powers, and sets all our wandering toot- 













































































































936 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


steps right! And how its promises rejoice our hearts, and its 
precepts direct our lives! 

A glory gilds the sacred page, 

Majestic like the sun; 

It gives a light to every age, 

It gives, but borrows none.” 

Ah! there are no words comparable to the Scriptures. 
None containing doctrines so useful—commands so reasonable 
—arguments so powerful. The lines 
of Scripture are richer than the mines 
of gold. How evidently suited to a 
sinful, sinning race! and how delight- 
hilly framed for the perfection of 
human happiness! What proofs of a 
Divine original! Show, if you can, 
in all. this world, any one book of all 
that ever was produced in any age or 
nation, like the Bible. Ay, the Bible 
came from God; and it bears a moral 
resemblance to Him from whom it 
came. God is holy, just, and good; 
and the Bible is also holy in its nature, 
just in its requirements, and good in 
its provisions and tendency. 

From its beneficial effects. It 
has wrought wonders in all ages, in 
all places, on all persons, and in all pos¬ 
sible varieties of human life. Chris¬ 
tianity—the religion of the Bible— portrait of rehoboam. 

has taught the great lessons of devotion, self-government, and 
benevolence. -It has diffused and preserved literature—abated 
illiberal prejudices—produced humility, forgiveness of injuries, 
regard to truth, justice, and honesty, firmness under persecution, 















































ITS EFFECTS. 


937 


patience under worldly afflictions, and calmness and resignation 
at the approach of death—discouraged fornication, polygamy, 
adultery, divorces, suicide, and duels—checked infanticide, cruel 
sports, the violence of war, the vices of Kings and the assaults 
of princes—and rendered its sincere professors true, honest, just, 
pure, lovely, and of good report. It has improved the condition 
of females—reclaimed dissolute men—abolished human sacrifices 
—prevented assassinations of princes, and revolutions in states 
—encouraged hospitality to strangers—founded charitable insti¬ 
tutions—emancipated slaves—abated the rigors of servitude— 
redeemed captives—relieved prisoners—protected widows and 
orphans—softened into tenderness and tears the hearts of despots 
—and given stability to thrones, wisdom to human laws, and pro¬ 
tection to the people. Has it not done more for the honor of the 
prince and the weal of the subject than any other system ? 

It has been a blessing" to every country into 'which it has 
been introduced. It has been a blessing to Britain. It has en¬ 
wrapped in graceful robes the once naked inhabitants of this 
great country: it has built cities, cultivated forests, reared our 
temples, regulated our institutions, and rendered the country both 
powerful and happy. America has found in it her freedom and 
her peace. The wrongs of Africa have been mitigated and 
removed by its justice and generosity. Asia, and the isles of 
the sea, are waiting for its light and healing. In every Pagan 
country where it has prevailed, it has abolished idolatry, with 
its sanguinary and polluted rites; raised the standard of moral¬ 
ity, and thus improved the manners of the people; and diffused 
far and wide the choicest blessings of heaven—freedom to the 
captive, light to the blind, comfort to the distressed, hope to the 
despairing, and life to the dying. Ask the people of New Zea¬ 
land, of Taheita, of Tonga, cannibals, infanticides, murderers of 
whole islands, what it has done for the salvation of their souls. 
It is at once the desire of all nations, and the glory of all lands. 














93 8 ' 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


And it has produced the most happy effects on multitudes 
of men. It has enlightened the most ignorant; softened the most 
hardened; reclaimed the most profligate; converted the most es¬ 
tranged; purified the most polluted; exalted the most degraded; 
and plucked the most endangered from hell to heaven. What 
was it that transformed the persecuting and blaspheming Saul 
into a kind and devoted man? It was religion. What was it 
which brought the woman who was a sinner to bathe the feet ot 
Jesus with her tears, and to wipe them with the hairs of her head? 
It was religion. What was it which produced the faith of Abra¬ 
ham, the meekness of Moses, the patience of Job, the wisdom of 
Solomon, the placability of Joseph, the penitence and zeal of 
David, the gentleness of Stephen, the boldness of the prophets,, 
the undaunted zeal of Paul, the heroism of Peter, and the sweet 
temper of u the beloved disciple?” It was religion. What was 
it which produced such purity of life, and gave such majesty in 
death, in the cases of Grotius, Selden, Salmasius, Plale, Paschal,. 
Boyle, Locke, Newton, Boerhave, Addison, Maclaurin, Lyttle- 
ton, and a thousand others? It was religion. 

Even men who labored to erase out of the mind all respect 
for religion have acknowledged the importance and expediency 
of it. Bayle admits religion to be useful if men acted agreeably 
to its principles; and Voltaire says, expressly, that religion is 
necessary in every fixed community; the laws are a curb upon 
open crimes, and religion on those that are private. u No relig¬ 
ion,” says Bolingbroke, “ ever appeared in the world whose 
natural tendency was so much directed to promote the peace and 
happiness of mankind as the Christian. The system of religion 
recorded by the evangelists is a complete system to all the pur¬ 
poses of true religion, natural or revealed. The Gospel of 
Christ is one continued lesson of the strictest morality, justice, 
benevolence, and universal charity .... Supposing Chris¬ 
tianity to have been purely an human invention, it had been the 


ITS EFFECTS. 


939 


most amiable, and the most useful invention that was ever im¬ 
posed on mankind for their good.” Hume acknowledges, that,. 
“ the disbelief in futurity loosens, in a great measure, the ties of 
morality, and may be supposed, for that reason, pernicious to the 
peace of civil society.” Rousseau acknowledges, that, “if all 
were perfect Christians, individuals would do their duty, the peo¬ 
ple would be obedient to the laws, the chiefs just, the magistrates 
incorrupt, the soldiers would despise death, and there would be 
neither vanity nor luxury in such a state.” Gibbon admits, that 
the gospel, or the church, discouraged suicide, advanced erudi¬ 
tion, checked oppression, promoted the manumission of slaves, 
and softened the ferocity of barbarous nations; that fierce nations, 
received at the same time the lessons of faith and humanity, and 
that, in the most corrupt state of Christianity, the barbarians 
might learn justice from the law, and mercy from the gospel. 
u To impute crimes to Christianity,” says the celebrated King 
of Prussia, “ is the act of a novice.” His word may fairly be 
taken for such an assertion. And yet these unbelievers have 
been so vile and perverse as to decry a system which they ac¬ 
knowledge to be useful. How ungrateful! How reprehensible! 
Collect now the thoughts scattered under this branch of the sub¬ 
ject, and be honest—heartily believe, and openly acknowledge, 
that God was the author of the Bible. What but a superhuman, 
a truly divine influence breathing in the Scriptures, can account 
for the energy and beneficence ol their moral tendencies? 

From its general reception . Vast numbers ol wise and 
good men, through many generations and in different countries, 
have agreed in receiving the Bible as a revelation from God. 
Many of them have been noted for seriousness, erudition, pene¬ 
tration, and impartiality in judging of men and things. We 
might refer to Alfred, “ replete with soul—the light ol a be- 
nhdited a°*e”—to Charles V., Emperor of Germany—to Gus- 
tavus Adolphus, the renowned King ot Sweden; to Selden, the 





940 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


learned and laborious lawyer and antiquary—to Bacon, “the 
bright morning star of science ”—to Usher, the well-known arch- 
bishop of Armagh—to Newton, u the sun whose beams have 
irradiated the world ”—to Boyle, celebrated for genius and erudi¬ 
tion—to Milton, the prince of poets—to Locke, the man of pro¬ 
found thought—to Jones, one of the brightest geniuses and most 
distinguished scholars of the eighteenth century—and to many 
other deathless names. And if the evidence of the truth of the 
Bible satisfied men of such high intellectual capacity, ought it 
not to satisfy us? We do not wish to insinuate that we ought 
to believe in the Divinity of the Scriptures merely because they 
believed it. But we do mean to say that we ought not rashly 
to conclude against that which they received. They are ac¬ 
knowledged authorities in other cases; then why not in this? If 
we can place reliance upon them in their philosophical inquiries, 
why not in their religious ones? Surely the infidels of the pres¬ 
ent day, so far inferior to the believers of the former days, ought 
to express themselves with more modesty upon this important 
subject, and to hesitate before they openly profess their opposi¬ 
tion to that book of religion and morals which has received the 
countenance of such honorable names as those which have been 
mentioned. 

On the subject of the propagation of Christianity it has 
been eloquently said: “In spite of violent and accumulated oppo¬ 
sition it diffused its blessings among the cities of Asia and the 
islands of Greece; over the deserts of Arabia and the European 
continent! From the hill of Calvary it speedily found its way 
to imperial Rome, gathering fresh laurels as it progressed, until 
it entered the palace and waved its banner over the proud dwel¬ 
ling of Caesar! With all the influence of priests and kings 
against it, and all the terrors of the gibbet or the flames, it 
rapidly overspread the extensive Roman empire and reached 
Britain, the little isle of the sea. With a power divine it 









ITS GENERAL RECEPTION. 


94 1 


achieved a triumph over mental and moral obliquity, surpassing 
all that the philosophy of Greece or Rome could boast; and still 
will it conquer, until the sun in the heavens shall not look down 
on a single human being destitute of the knowledge of Jesus 
Christ.” And the Rev. Robert Hall, whom to mention is to 
praise, remarked: u We see Christianity as yet but in its infancy. 
It has not already reached the great ends it is intended to answer 
and to which it is constantly advancing. At present it is but a 
grain of mustard seed and seems to bring forth a tender and 
weakly crop, but be assured it is of God’s own right hand 
planting, and He will never suffer it to perish. It will soon 
stretch its branches to the river and its shades to the ends of the 
earth. The weary will repose themselves under it, the hungry 
will partake of its fruits, and its leaves will be for the healing of 
the nations. Those who profess the name of Jesus will delight 
in contemplating the increase and grandeur of His kingdom. 

4 He must reign until He hath put all enemies under His feet.’ 
The leligion of Jesus is not the religion of one age or of one 
nation. It is a train of light first put in motion by God, and 
which will continue to move and to spread till it has filled the 
whole earth with its glory. Its blessings will descend and its 
influence will be felt to the latest generations. Uninterrupted in 
its course, and boundless in its extent, it will- not be limited by 
time or space. The earth is too narrow for the display of its 
effects and the accomplishment of its purposes. It points for¬ 
ward to an eternity. The great Redeemer will again appear 
upon the earth as the judge and ruler of it; will send forth His 
angels and 2rather His elect from the four winds; will abolish sin 

& o 

and death; will place the righteous forever in the presence of 
his God, of their God, of his Father, and their father.” 

“ As the waters the depth of the blue ocean cover, 

So fully shall God among mortals be known; 

His word, like the sunbeams, shall range the world over, 

The globe His vast temple, and mercy His throne.” 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


94 2 


Christianity, though not persecuting, has been bitterly per¬ 
secuted; yet it has triumphed—and triumphed, too, in spite of all 
its foes. Like Moses 1 bush, it was unconsumable by fire; and 
rose up amid the flames and prospered. And like the eagle— 
the imperial bird of storms—it will continue securely to soar 
amid every tempest. All attempts to impede its progress will be 
as powerless and vain as attempts to drive back the flowing tide 
with the point of a needle. When infidels can grasp the winds 
in their fists, hush the voice of the thunder by the breath of their 
mouth, suspend the succession of the seasons by their nod, and 
extinguish the light of the sun by a veil, then, and not till then, 
can they arrest the progress of truth or invalidate the verities of 
the Bible. Unwise and unhappy men! they are but plowing 
the air—striking with a straw—writing on the surface of the 
water—and seeking figs where only brambles grow. 

And compare not the propagation of Mohammedanism with 
the propagation of Christianity; for it is useless, if not absurd. 

Suffice it to say that the former was propagated by fanaticism, 

» 

falsehood, pandering to the passions, promising a voluptuous 
paradise, and the frequent use of the sword; but the latter by 
•sanity, truth, restraining the passions, promising a pure and holy 
heaven, and the use of no other sword but the sword of the 
Spirit, that is, the word of God. Christianity came—saw—and 
■conquered. And all her victories have been bloodless—of untold 
.advantage to the vanquished themselves. They have desolated 
no country—produced no tears but to wipe them away—and 
broken no hearts but to heal them. Now to what is all this 
to be attributed? Can we reasonably ascribe the general re¬ 
ception of the Bible and the consequent spread of Christianity to 
anything short of divine power? Is it not unprecedented? 
u Could any books,” says an able writer, “have undergone so 
fearful and prolonged an ordeal and achieved so spotless and 
perfect a triumph, unless they had been given and watched 
hy the Deity? ” 


over 











PERSECUTED BUT NOT PERSECUTING. 


943 


From its innumerable martyrs . u If a person,’’ says Dr. 
Jortin, “ lays clown his life for the name of Christ, or for what 
he takes to be the religion of Christ, when he might prolong his 
days by renouncing his faith, he must stand for a martyr in every 
reasonable man’s calendar, though he may have been much mis¬ 
taken in some of his opinions.” It has been calculated that since 
Christianity arose, not less than fifty millions of martyrs have laid 
down their lives for its sake. Some were venerable for years; 
others were in the bloom of life; and not a few were of the 
weaker sex. They were, for the most part, well-instructed per¬ 
sons. Many were learned and respectable men; neither factious 
in their principles nor violent in their passions. They were 
neither wild in their notions, nor foolishly prodigal of their lives. 
This may safely be affirmed of such men as Polycarp and Igna¬ 
tius, Jerome and PIuss, Latimer and Cranmer, Ridley and 
Hooper, Philpot and Bradford, Lambert and Saunders, and 
many others. Yet these so valued the Bible, that, rather than 
renounce it, and relinquish the hopes it inspired, they yielded 
their bodies to be burnt, or otherwise tormented, and “ rejoiced 
and clapped their hands in flames,” or the like. “ All that a 
man hath will he give for his life.” All account life sweet and 
precious. No man of sense and understanding will sacrifice his 
life, when he can preserve it, but for some deeply rooted convic¬ 
tion of truth or duty. In this view, Christian martyrs are 
entitled to our respect and esteem. For, they gave the strongest 
proof of sincerity of their faith: and no suspicion of fraud can 
'reasonably be entertained against them. “ We conclude,” says 
Dr. Jortin, “ that they were assisted by God, who alleviated their 
pain, and gave them not only resignation and patience, but exul¬ 
tation and joy. And this wonderful behavior of the former 
Christians may justly be accounted a prool ol the truth ot the 
Bible, and our holy religion, and we should deserve to be blamed 
and despised if we parted with it, and gave it up tamely on 


944 


TRUTH OF THE BIBLE. 


account of a few objections. 1 ’ u No man,” observes Dr. Beattie, 
“ ever laid down his life for the honor of Jupiter, Neptune, or 
Apollo; but how many thousands have sealed their Christian 
testimony with their blood!” What a moral victory! And 
whence but from heaven such a religion, having such attestation? 

Other arguments might be added tending to demonstrate 
the truth of our proposition; but surely, enough have been pro¬ 
duced to establish the authority of the Bible on an immovable 
basis. u Forever, O Lord, Thy word is settled in heaven. I 
esteem all Thy precepts concerning all things to be right; and I 
hate every false way.” u All flesh is as grass, and all the glory 
of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the 
flower thereof falleth away; but the word of the Lord endureth 
forever. And this is the word which by the Gospel is preached 
unto you.” 

“ The proudest works of Genius shall decay, 

And Reason’s brightest lustre fade away; 

The Sophist’s art, the Poet’s boldest flight, 

Shall sink in darkness, and conclude in night; 

But Faith triumphant over Time shall stand, 

Shall grasp the Sacred Volume in her hand; 

Back to its source the heavenly gift convey, 

Then in the flood of Glory melt away.” 


THE END. 








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